


Mountie Duck

by glovered



Category: Hark! A Vagrant, Supernatural RPF
Genre: Alternate Universe, Crack, F/F, Fake/Pretend Relationship, Hypothermia, M/M, Mounties (RCMP), Poison, Prostitution, Secret Identity, Spies & Secret Agents
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-07-26
Updated: 2012-07-26
Packaged: 2017-11-10 19:42:14
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 30,061
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/469945
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/glovered/pseuds/glovered
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Jared is a Mountie at a small border crossing. Jensen Ackles avoids his official hug.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> This story was inspired by Kate Beaton's glorious [Mountie Duck comic](http://harkavagrant.com/index.php?id=125). Not in any way affiliated and no plagiarism intended, consider this fic an ode to the beauty that is Hark, A Vagrant!

Jared is a Mountie. Today is Friday and it is time for him to give out his 25 th official hug of the morning.  
  
Ackles, Jensen, who isn't a Canadian either (judging by his passport) is not impressed. He does not wait for Jared to come around his booth, instead just makes toward the red dotted line that runs across the floor near the Border Control exit.  
  
"American!" Jared shouts. "Stop in the name of the law!"  
  
Jensen Ackles steadfastly approaches American soil.  
  
Jared jogs a little. "You're about to leave Canada without getting your official hug!"   
  
But Jensen is now across the border. Jared hears him mutter, "I guess I forgot," before he disappears into the sunlight.  
  
Jared sighs and heads back to his station. As expected, his comm buzzes a minute later and the voice of Mountie in Chief Samantha Ferris crackles out of the speaker. "Mountie Padalecki."  
  
He presses the large, red button. "Yes, ma'am?"  
  
"I'd like to see you for a moment."  
  
From the booth opposite, Mountie Hodge gives him a sympathetic look which helps as much as it can, and from further down, overseeing the line that's coming in stateside, Mountie Palicki sends him a shrug.  
  
Jared walks sharply to the back office, thinking,  _drat, not again_ .  
  
  
  
  
  
A week later, Jared is at the ready, watching for the familiar set of shoulders in the line of border crossers, a line which winds back to the Canada-side entry of the station. Although Jensen is not in sight, Jared knows it is only a matter of time. And to think that Friday used to be his favorite day of the week— now it's a day steeped in shame, tarnished.  
  
His record, otherwise perfect, is marred by Jensen Ackles.  
  
The fact that the station is walk-through certainly makes things difficult, but Jared has conviction. He rolls his shoulders, stretches an arm behind his back to prepare for a long grab, gearing himself up for his weekly brush with this, as of yet unattained, victory.  
  
He cannot afford another demerit.  
  
It shouldn't be all that hard. When Jared got hired on, the Chief explained how exit hugging was a long-standing, two hundred year old tradition, no way of getting around it. Tradition is a rock, she said. So Jared thought it was strange when at first this hug business seemed to make everyone uncomfortable. In the face of this awkwardness, he made sure to smile big and throw on some of those Texas manners like his momma taught him, and he stuck to it for months, so that now he gets cheerful hellos instead, and only the occasional sidelong glance.  
  
Jared loves his job, and he's really fucking good at it, but Jensen is the one person who continues to evade him. Jared thanks god every day for this opportunity, this second chance that fell into his lap, and he has made it his mission to fit in with the other Mounties, to uphold all Mountie law and custom, which includes hugging every border crosser to the best of his ability. As a Mountie, he, Aldis, and Adrianne get their own booths, and their badges are gold-plated and shine when there's sun. Jared polishes his every morning and leaves it on his bedside table at night as a reminder of how far he's come.   
  
Jared forces himself to relax as one of his regulars, Etta, steps up to the booth.  
  
"Morning, Mountie Padalecki," she says.  
  
Jared sends her a sunny smile. "Mornin."  
  
He takes her passport, gives it a once over, and passes it back over the booth. Then, he steps around to her side and she sets down her briefcase momentarily to allow herself to be caught up in an up-to-regulation bear hug — one lasting at least three seconds and not exceeding seven — after which Jared steps back around his booth and repeats the process, okaying a guy in a baseball hat that almost gets knocked off when Jared pulls him in close.  
  
It's good. It's familiar. It is eight-thirty in the morning and his line is all browsing through newspapers and talking to the people near them, and almost every person who steps up greets him with a smile.  
  
"Good morning, Mountie Padalecki," a man by the legal name of Christian Kane says. He's holding a cup of coffee bearing the America's Hat insignia and his tight rock star jeans are secured by a belt with a lone star on it.  
  
Jared flips open the passport and studies Chris's picture. "It's a nice one."  
  
"You've seen that picture a hundred times," Chris tells him.  
  
"Never fails to amuse."  
  
The picture was taken in 2002, and in it Chris has short hair with bleached tips. Jared holds it up to check against Chris now, with his flowing locks and stubble.  
  
Suddenly, at the next booth over, there is the tragic sound of a man failing.   
  
They turn to see that Aldis is rubbing a hand over the back of his neck while Alona Tal leans against his booth.   
  
"What?" she asks. "No hug today?"  
  
Aldis says, "Um, yeah, I—"  
  
She is short and slim and looks like she can drop a guy with a well-placed jab of her fist. Aldis, normally unmoved, seems flustered. He laughs, overly loud, and when he hugs her, it's with a stilted pat to the shoulder.   
  
"This is really embarrassing," Jared says.  
  
"No kidding," Chris agrees.  
  
Alona is one of Aldis's regulars and it always goes like this. Aldis has been working at Larkspur's Border Control for five years, so he shouldn't be this bad at mandated hugging. It's hilarious.  
  
Jared has regulars, too: businesswomen who cross every morning, guys who are half-asleep and surly... and Jensen. But where Jensen is mysterious, crossing once a week, sometimes more, with barely a word, Alona is almost flirty.  
  
"Well, work calls," says Chris. "Come here." He opens his arms wide and Jared gives him a hug with an extra back slap.  
  
He waves and tells him to "have a good day, you hear?" and then looks over to check on Aldis.  
  
Currently, Aldis is watching Alona walk away, and when she's out of sight, out across the border and into the chilly world of North Dakota, he gives a fist pump and says, "Fuck yes!" which startles the old man Jared's got encircled in his arms.  
  
Jared lets the guy go. "What?"  
  
"She gave me a five seconder!" Aldis says. While he's been covering his interest well, he hasn't been covering it  _that_  well.  
  
"This is getting kind of creepy," Jared says. "It's my Mountie duty to tell you when you've reached that point."  
  
Aldis checks a passport with gusto, and then, with his chin pressed into some guy's toupee, asks Jared, "You think she likes horses? Because chicks, like, dig horses, you know?"  
  
"Aldis...."  
  
"She's adorable. And sweet. Do you think she seems sweet?"  
  
"Seems dangerous."  
  
"What? No way."  
  
"Look, I used to work with a bunch of extremely competent women. Alona definitely knows how to dropkick a guy, if you know what I mean."  
  
Aldis rolls his eyes at Jared but then looks past him, toward the door. When Jared turns, he sees Jensen idling by the gift store, deceptively nondescript. Jared accepts the passport of the next person in line, on autopilot.  
  
 _Today is the day_ , he thinks, and even though there are still at least twenty people between him and his destiny, he cracks his knuckles surreptitiously and widens his stance. He nods almost imperceptibly at Aldis. Aldis gives him a thumbs up.  
  
It's Friday, and Jensen is back.  
  
Sneaking a glance back to where Jensen is leafing through a guidebook, Jared is reminded how Jensen Ackles is the most gorgeous man he has ever met, like some higher power decided to make the perfect guy, no holds barred. When Jensen comes through his booth, the very fact of Jensen's existence makes Jared feel unhinged. It makes him want to do all sorts of... passport stamping. Jensen, however, is a miscreant and a delinquent, and Jared should remember that.  
  
The moment of truth nears. Jensen calmly shuffles forward, two steps at a time, as each person passes by Jared's booth. By the time Jensen steps up to stand opposite, briefcase in hand and hair tousled casually like he has better things to think about, Jared's completely prepared. He feels like he's on track again, bending a leg, hand on one knee, gearing to take off. His senses are on high alert.   
  
Jensen doesn't even look at him. It's nothing new. Jared feels annoyance-based desire well in his chest.  
  
Jensen steps up.  
  
"Good morning," Jared says, like this is a simple request, like there's not a chase about to go down. "Passport, please."  
  
Jensen slides it over the desk.  
  
Jared examines the picture.  
  
"What was the purpose of your stay?"  
  
"Business."  
  
"And what is your line of work?"  
  
"I take on independent clients. My work is... personal."  
  
"So you're self-employed?"  
  
"Well, I contract myself out, you could say."  
  
"Could you specify what the service you provide is?"  
  
Jensen takes a second to respond. "It's not exactly something I'd put on a business card, let's just leave it at that."  
  
Jared freezes and meets Jensen's eyes. Of all the times Jared's asked that question, Jensen's never once given more information, never implied that he and Jared might be involved in the same circles.  
  
Jensen, however, looks unimpressed, bored. "Am I free to go?"  
  
Jared looks at the passport one more time, and then passes it back over. "Not just yet. Please wait where you are so I can—"  
  
Jensen turns and wanders off.  
  
Jared points a finger and steps around his booth. "Oh no you don't."  
  
But Jensen takes a couple long strides without looking back, then steps over the dotted line like it's nothing. To Jared, it is everything. If he were of a surlier disposition, he would doubtless throw his hat down and yell, "Curses!" Being eternally optimistic, however, he only experiences the thrill of a challenge.  
  
"Mountie Padalecki," he hears over the intercom.  
  
He presses the button, speaking into the microphone even as he watches Jensen slip around the corner into the United States. "I'll be right there."  
  
Jared thinks that if anyone can help him, it's Chad. Chad, who is a much better judge of character than Jared is. That's what made him a successful pimp, after all. But he and Jared don't do that anymore, not since they got kicked out of America. Or, fled. Whatever.   
  
  
  
  
  
Jared gets home at six. Chad's in the livingroom, messing around on his computer. "How was work, babe?"  
  
Jared slings his bag over a chair. "I'm not your boyfriend. Please get one."  
  
Chad takes a bite of his sandwich and Jared frisbees his hat at him. Chad catches it one-handed and flips it onto his head, then gets up to head into the kitchen on socked feet, Jared following.  
  
"You know that guy I told you about? The guy who I keep getting called in about?"  
  
"The hug guy?"  
  
"Yeah. I think he might be in the business."  
  
"A hooker?"  
  
"High-class prostitute," Jared corrects. "Also, he still wouldn't give me a hug."  
  
"You'd think that would be the easiest part of your job."  
  
Jared laughs. “Oh right, totally.”  
  
Chad hands him a beer. Jared twists the cap off.  
  
"It's just, he's quick. I'm behind a booth. He's like... he's like a ninja or something." Jared neglects to mention how Jensen also makes his chest feel tight and his mouth go dry. He drinks. "I have three demerits."  
  
"What does that get you in Canadian?"  
  
"I had to do overtime face painting for the kids waiting in line."   
  
"Aw, look at that smile."  
  
Jared rolls his eyes. "Okay, so I liked it. Most enjoyable part of my day. Shut the fuck up. But really, I hate disappointing superiors."  
  
"I noticed," Chad says.  
  
"You're not my superior."  
  
"Well, not anymore, seeing as someone—"  
  
"Look,"says Jared. "That was all you. I told you I didn't think I should do such high-profile clients, but you cared too much about money and too little about discretion." It's an old argument.  
  
"I told you to duck photographers," Chad says, mildly.  
  
"How can you duck photographers when you're on the arm of a US Senator?"  
  
"I don't know, man. Anyway, Canada's fucking sweet, so we're good. And it's a damn good picture." Chad looks over at the bookshelf, fondly.  
  
Jared groans. "No. Man, don't put that up in our apartment."   
  
He stalks over to grab the picture, which is displayed in a sparkly pink frame that reads "best friends forever." It's black and white and cut from the front page of a tabloid, which is where the whole fleeing the country thing came in. He's not ashamed of his past, personally, but he remembers that night, the night which got him expatriated, the senator whispering state secrets into his skin.  
  
That had been a risk he'd taken and it had backfired and now he is living with the consequences. He puts the picture frame face down.  
  
"I'm supposed to be high-class, not high-profile. Distinct difference there."  
  
Chad shrugs. "All I'm saying is, you're lucky I had you get that outfit."  
  
Jared still can't believe it worked. He remembers how he had been shivering and freaked out that the mounted border patrol would cart him away to jail for impersonating law enforcement. It was either that or boot them back over the border into the US, and neither outcome was a good one.  
  
What had really happened, though, was he and Chad stumbled in through the front door of a checkpoint in this five road border town that is full of tourist shops with postcards of wildlife he now sends to his mom every week or so. Chad's hands were cuffed and Jared was pushing him roughly between the shoulder blades, trying to make it look real.  
  
Inside, Aldis was leaning on an elbow, chin on his hand.  
  
"You there," Jared shouted, voice echoing in the open room.  
  
Aldis straightened to attention at the sight of them. "Can I help you?" he asked, suspicion clear.  
  
Jared would have been suspicious, too, in Aldis's position.  
  
"I found this one trying to make a break for it." He shook Chad to make his point.  
  
"Break for it?" Aldis looked between the two of them.  
  
"Yes. Heading into America through the forest. But don't worry, I got him." By this point he'd dragged Chad up to Aldis's booth. He held out a hand. "Good evening. I haven't been to your station until tonight. My name is Mountie Padalecki."  
  
Aldis looked further uncertain, but he shook Jared's hand with a firm grip before saying, "Nice to meet you. I'm Mountie Hodge. I'll call my superior."  
  
Jared waved this off. "No, no need. I'll just take him back over into town."  
  
Aldis glanced between the two of them again. Jared stood a little taller, to look the part, although in reality he probably looked exhausted from running. The handcuffs were pink and fuzzy leopard-print and Jared just wanted to get into bed, any bed.  
  
 _Now is the time we're arrested for real_ , he thought.  _On either side of the border, we're going to be caught._  
  
But then Aldis pressed a red button on his booth and spoke into it. "I have a Mountie Padalecki here. He's apprehended a fugitive."  
  
This was answered with a deep silence.  
  
Then, a phone rang at Aldis's elbow. He answered, listened for a second, and then put it on speakerphone.  
  
"This is Mountie in Chief Samantha Ferris," said the voice on the other end.  
  
"At your service, ma'am."  
  
Jared repeated his story, more surely this time. He stood at his full height, like he was self-assured rather than freaked the fuck out, just in case there were security cameras.  
  
"Well," the voice said. "I want you to know, Mountie Pada—"  
  
"Padalecki."  
  
"—Padalecki. That we at Larkspur support your efforts, and commend you, for all your hard work."  
  
"Oh! Well, it's no trouble, ma'am. Just... just protecting our great country."  
  
"Hm."  
  
During the ensuing pause, Jared feared for his life and well-being. Then, the Chief said:  
  
"It sounds like we could use you at our station."  
  
"Excuse me?"  
  
"I'm offering you a job, Mountie Padalecki. We're a small crossing, but we'd be glad for the help. Tell me, are you very attached to your station?"  
  
Jared didn't know what to say. He had thought they would get over the border, or they would fail. He hadn't expected to be offered employment. "No, ma'am."  
  
"Then report to work first thing. I don't have time for arguing with your supervisor, what with criminals leaking through into the US—" at this Aldis gave Chad a severe look of reproof "—so I hope you won't mind passing along the news yourself."  
  
"Not at all," he said.  
  
That night she sent Aldis to drive them to a hotel where they would spend two, paid-for weeks to give Jared time to look for a place to stay in town.  
  
"What about him?" asked Jared, jerking his thumb at Chad who was checking out the room and looking through the TV guide.  
  
"It was cowardly," said Aldis. "But he must have had good reason to be on the run."  
  
The look he gave Jared at that point seemed significant, but Jared didn't follow.  
  
The man cleared his throat before continuing, "We at Larkspur believe in second chances. You two are very brave— I mean,  _you_ are very brave to escape over the border. Or rather, come back over. Ahem, I mean, our station could use someone like you around."  
  
Jared was pleased, if not a bit perplexed. He tapped the doorjamb twice and gave Mountie Hodge his most reassuring smile. "Thanks. We— I mean, I— really appreciate it."  
  
"You have a good night," said Aldis.  
  
Jared started work on Monday.  
  
  
  
  
  
"Time to get smashed," Chad says now, six months after their big escape. "Get into some real clothes, man. That thing hugs your ass. I can't believe you haven't asked for a real Mountie uniform yet. How does your boss let you wear this one?"  
  
"I didn't want to inconvenience them," he says. "They were already giving me a job."  
  
Although it's true, his outfit includes a red jacket and tight, black shorts. It's for decorative purposes only, the sort of thing you rip off while roleplaying in a fancy hotel room, and not for outdoor use.  
  
So Jared changes into jeans and a more appropriate shirt and they head out. The town is piled up with snow and looks like a holiday getaway, quaint and remote, but with friendly lights running all the roads. The Bar is a ten minute walk from their apartment, and it's great. It's a dive, low-lit with three beers on tap and a bunch of stuff in cans, but the real selling point is the stage and the live band every weekend.  
  
In short, Larkspur is perfect. Chad and he go to the Bar on Mondays and sometimes Thursdays, and usually Friday and Saturday... really any time Danneel isn't serving drinks.  
  
She isn't working tonight. There's a band warming up on stage and, three drinks in, Jared's feeling thankful for alcohol and thankful for Bartender Louis, who has a ridiculous crush on Chad, which means that the evening is pretty much awesome.  
  
"Chad is great," Louis says, passing him another beer over the bar.  
  
"Chad?" For a second Jared is all saddened about crushing Louis's heart or something, the heart of the only bartender who serves them, but then he remembers that he is a  _bartender_ , which means he is resilient. "He's a total loser, man."  
  
"He told me that he went to uni for business," Louis says.  
  
"That's true."  
  
"And he ran a start-up company of over fifty employees for the past five years."  
  
"That is...also technically true."  
  
"He drives a crackin' scooter."  
  
"Whatever."  
  
"And he beat Uncharted 3 in two days."  
  
"That makes him a geek."  
  
"No, it means he's brilliant."  
  
Jared says, "Well, I was there, too!"  
  
"He said you fell asleep," Louis says, with an unexpectedly sassy hair flip.  
  
"Okay, fine," Jared's forced to concede.   
  
Louis smiles beatifically. Jared likes him anyway.  
  
"You know," Jared tells him. "He's been on this whole kick lately. This whole thing where he feels like he's been given a second chance at life, and he's like, following his dreams, living each day to the fullest."  
  
"Yeah?"  
  
"Yeah, so. If you're strapped for conversation topics, you might want to talk to him about that."  
  
Louis's eyes crinkle. "Thanks."  
  
Jared nods, and turns away to listen to the music. In doing so, he knocks into someone.  
  
He can't keep the smile off his face when he sees who it is.  
  
"Hey! Jensen Ross Ackles!"  
  
It's totally Jensen, although the guy is dressed casually and isn't carrying a briefcase.  
  
Jensen ducks his head. "Yep, that's my name. Now, if you'll excuse me—"  
  
Jared steps in his path and holds up a hand. "No, hold on. Look."  
  
Jensen actually stops, which is a win as far as Jared is concerned. It's never happened before.  
  
"I'm not confrontational," Jared says.  
  
Jensen raises his eyebrows. "Dude, you're a freaking Mountie." Jared allows this. "You've got more muscles than your horse."  
  
"Yeah, well." Jared shrugs. He doesn't technically ride yet, but he neglects to correct Jensen on this point because he is going to be promoted to riding in a month, anyway. "Hey, so, I'm not usually the guy to ask about feelings and shit, but I've got to ask: why won't you hug me? I mean, it's kind of embarrassing, in front of everyone, you know…."  
  
"Man." Jensen looks around the bar, then back to Jared, cleft chin to bootstraps. It's almost a sneer. "Just because some guy's wearing a uniform, doesn't mean I have to let him hug me."  
  
"Okay, that's valid. You know, at the job I had before this, the question of safe consent came up a lot." He makes meaningful eyes at Jensen. "You gotta establish clear boundaries, emphasize clear communication. Especially when you have a really hands-on job."  
  
"All right."  
  
Jared is dying to ask the question that's been on his mind all day, but before he can, Jensen frowns, like he's just caught himself being friendly.  
  
"But anyway. The hug rule is some new thing. I don't like it."  
  
"New?"  
  
"Um, yeah. It was instated, like, six months ago."  
  
"Huh," Jared says, counting back in his head. "That's about when I joined."  
  
"Joined?" Jensen narrows his eyes. "I thought you had to do a desk job for a couple of years before you're allowed in public."  
  
Jared has no fucking clue. He says instead, "Which one of us is the Mountie here?"   
  
Jensen acknowledges this with a silent inclination of his head.  
  
Conversation seemingly over, Jared goes to clap him on the shoulder, but Jensen catches his wrist.  
  
"You a ninja or something?" Jared asks. It is something he has been suspecting.  
  
Jensen frowns. "Something like that."  
  
Jared really wants to keep talking to him. He says, "So are you gonna let me buy you a drink or what?"  
  
"Jesus," Jensen says to himself. "I don't usually come Fridays and now I know why. Okay, look, Jared."  
  
Jared grins, then falters. "Wait, how do you know my name?"  
  
"I don't accept drinks from strangers, okay?"  
  
"Even if we're both from Texas?"  
  
"Huh?"  
  
"Come on, man. Texas!" Jared lets the twang out. Jensen's eyes widen. "Was that supposed to be a secret or something?"  
  
Jensen shakes his head. "You got it wrong. I'm full-blood South Dakotan."  
  
"Bullshit."  
  
"You've seen my passport."  
  
"Yeah? Well, I don't believe it." Something occurs to him. "Hey! Why are you in Canada again anyway? You crossed over this morning!"  
  
Jensen squints at him. "The more important question is, how are you allowed to be a Mountie, if you're not Canadian?"  
  
"Well..." Jared leans in. "They never checked."  
  
Jensen considers this. "Not smart to be telling just anyone that."  
  
"You're not just anyone." Jared is probably somewhat inebriated, and he stands by this justification.  
  
"Goodnight, Jared."  
  
Jared shrugs. "Next time, then."  
  
Jensen rolls his eyes, like yeah, he'll bite but thinks Jared's being stupid. "Next time what?"  
  
"Next time you'll take me up on that drink offer."  
  
"Whatever."  
  
Jared turns to flag down Louis, blood thrumming. He orders four shots of tequila and two beers, hoping Jensen's decided to stay. He knows how it goes, however, and isn't surprised when he turns back, cool beers in hand, and Jensen is gone.  
  
  
  
  
  
The next morning, Jared spends five minutes fantasizing about pulling the quilt up over his face before managing to flop an arm out and catch the edge of the covers in his hand. Daylight hitting him full in the face, there seems to be a disconnect between his brain and his arm in the form of a layer of grungy, alcohol-induced head-throb. He chews on his pillowcase a little. It's currently in his mouth. He frowns, scrunching his eyes and rubbing his face into the pillow, before rolling over, losing his other arm beneath him.  
  
The door creaks open, and he tenses on reflex to catch the weight of two overgrown puppies.  
  
But it's just Chad, who neither tramples him nor licks him all over, but does wake him up fully, saying, "You were shitfaced last night. I have pictures."   
  
The door clicks shut. Jared sighs and rolls over on his back to stare at the ceiling, thinking of Harley and Sadie, back in Texas with his parents. It makes him somewhat melancholy. He generally avoids thinking about them.  
  
His clock reads ten to seven, which means he doesn't have to be in for another forty minutes, which gives him time for a shower and at least three bowls of cereal and maybe some eggs and maybe a couple cups of coffee.  
  
Jared showers with his forehead pressed against the tile of the wall, hot water beating steady on the back of his neck and shoulders. He soaps up, trying to gather the vestiges of last night in his memory, anything past the impression that Jensen had been hot in a black t-shirt and dark jeans, hair styled, and that Jensen had all but admitted to being in the life. It's probably too good to be true, but it's possible. In any case, Jared hopes he wasn't too obvious in thinking Jensen was the most gorgeous thing since Wonderbread and the American Dream. Well, not obvious besides offering to buy him a drink and hitting on him. That was just a thing, though.  
  
He heads to the kitchen, where he eats breakfast standing up. Chad is wandering the living room and kitchen in a thermal and pink boxers, one sock on.  
  
"Still up?" Jared asks.  
  
Chad says, "Yeah." It's mostly all yawn. He thumps Jared on the shoulder as he passes, twice, hard. "You're doing good, kid. Have a good one."  
  
Jared nods, puts the pan back on the stove and the bottle of OJ back in the fridge, feeling cloudy. It's one of those mornings where you need good things beat into you until you feel all right.  
  
This is his general impression, when chilly sun shines relentlessly cheerful as he walks to work, boots crunching a thin layer of snow into the sidewalk. He doesn't have time to grab his usual half-mocha half-whip half-caramel cappuccino from America's Hat, much to his chagrin.  
  
  
  
  
  
The line coming into Canada isn't nearly as friendly as the one leaving it. Adrianne is smiley, albeit no-nonsense, but people look harried, warming their hands in their pockets, adjusting scarves. Meanwhile, on his end of Border Control, a man gives Jared a pleasant nod and then steps into his embrace. Jared thinks, maybe the promise of a hug really does raise morale.  
  
Jared is giving the next person in line a squeeze when he catches sight of Welling.  
  
"Who's Welling?" Aldis asks from his booth. Jared had apparently muttered the name aloud in foreboding tones.  
  
"No one." Jared checks another passport.   
  
Welling is the pale man in the black suit who is seated under the awning of Canada's Boot at a patio table. He is there every day, and he's always watching Jared. Jared knows because the guy sits sipping at a paper cup in dark glasses that make him stand out rather than fade into the background like he obviously seems to think. It's a rain-or-shine type of situation. Snow, too.  
  
The only reason Jared knows Welling's name is that he and Chad had been stoned, and Jared had gone on about the guy in a suit who watched him from Canada's Boot, Chad made an international call and hired a private investigator. The next day, a woman with straight blonde hair and a hundred-dollar (American) smile passed through border check and said, conversationally as Jared was checking her passport, "His name is Tom Welling. He's a G-Man with a whole lotta patience."  
  
"FBI?" Jared whispered, manfully.  
  
She nodded, and said as she leaned in for a hug, "I don't know what sort of trouble you and your friend have gotten yourselves into, but this is as far as I go. I don't do FBI."  
  
"I understand."  
  
"Take care of yourself," she said into his shoulder.  
  
Jared snaps back to the present to check a passport and give a hug, feeling Welling's eyes on the station as a low-level buzz of stress. Sometimes Jared imagines they are having staring matches.  
  
Alona is third in line, coming through on Adrianne's side.  
  
"Hey," Jared says to Aldis. "Your girlfriend's back."  
  
Aldis makes a very unconvincing noise of dismissal. "She's not my girlfriend."  
  
"Fine," she says. She holds up a paper cup with a map of America sketched on the sleeve. "Jared, how do you feel about lattes?"  
  
"Yes! I love Canada's Boot!" Jared says, accepting the steaming drink with absolutely no hesitation. Although it could do with chocolate shavings and maybe some vanilla, it is damn good coffee.  
  
Aldis's entire demeanor changes. "No, baby, I'll treat you right!"  
  
"Aw," Alona says. "You're cute. But don't worry, I'll keep you."  
  
Jared tunes them out in favor of licking froth off the rim of the cup. He does really love coffee, and even though the coffee shop is within sight of the Border Control exit, the not so small issue of his being unable to cross onto American soil has imbued the place with some false symbolic value. He wants it because he can't have it.  
  
Well, there's always America's Hat, he tells himself, which is just outside of Border Control in the opposite direction, on the safer, Canadian side of the border, like a mirror.  
  
Alona has come over to stand on the wrong side of the line. Jared doesn't think anyone is supposed to hang out with them while they're on duty, but she seems to be the exception to the No Loitering rule. If such a rule exists. Jared hasn't read the Mountie handbook so he can't really be held accountable.  
  
He tells her, "Oh my god, this is exactly what I needed. Thanks, Alona. Or really, thanks, Aldis."  
  
"I hate you," Aldis says.  
  
Alona looks out at the Boot. "We need to get those two together."   
  
"Who?" Jared asks.  
  
"The two coffee guys," she says, eye-roll implied.  
  
"Not everything is a relationship waiting to happen."  
  
"Everything is definitely a relationship waiting to happen. Just most of the time it doesn't happen. It would be good for business, anyway."  
  
Jared shrugs, unconvinced.  
  
Aldis laughs. "My non-girlfriend is adorable."  
  
"I'm a romantic at heart, even if I do enjoy killing people."  
  
Jared laughs — especially because Alona is great at the whole deadpan, cold eyes of a killer thing—and asks, "Aren't they like, rivals?"  
  
He's heard that the guy who runs the Boot is so grumpy it curdles the milk. His name is Jim Beaver and he has a scruffy and yellowed beard and yells at damn kids to get off of his establishment. The Hat, on the other hand, is run by an entrepreneurial British man named Mark Sheppard, who Jared kind of really admires.  
  
"Greatest love sprung from my latest hate," Alona says. "That sort of dynamic."  
  
"Have they even met?"  
  
"No, dummy, they live on opposite sides of the border and work rival coffee shops seven days a week. They probably avoid each other, and with good reason. And Jim would eat Mark for breakfast."  
  
"Naw," Aldis says. "Sheppard's a feisty guy. He'd turn it around and make it kinky."  
  
Jared considers the owner of the Hat, who is always dressed in a slick black suit with a black shirt, and imagines him dating some hick dude. Owing to his previous line of work, Jared has seen and done all sorts of things, so he can imagine it well.  
  
By now the morning rush has ended but they have an hour until the lunch crowd moves in. Alona and Aldis are arguing and Adrianne goes to groom the horses.  
  
Jared takes another sip of his coffee. Maybe he groans out loud.  
  
"You sound like a porn star."  
  
Jared jumps to attention. His first instinct is to take off running, thinking,  _they know!_  But instead he whirls to find Jensen idling there in Jared's otherwise empty line.  
  
Jared says, "Porn star? Who? Me? Nuh uh." And it's not a lie— he's never done porn.  
  
He rubs his palms against his shorts, because his hands have gone sweaty.  
  
Jensen frowns at him but then shrugs and lays his passport out on the booth. Jared flips through it and looks at Jensen's picture, for the n th time. He's almost fond of it, in its familiarity. Jensen's hair is a little more military-cut than it is now, and he looks shifty, like Jared always feels in front of cameras. Especially now that he knows what detrimental effects one photo can have on a guy's life and livelihood.  
  
"You're here today," Jared notes.  
  
Jensen has his eyes fixed on his passport, like he's willing Jared to hand it back so he can escape. "Yeah, business has really picked up."  
  
Jared looks up. "Oh, hey, are you wearing makeup—"  
  
Jensen reaches to touch his face, then frowns and stops himself.  
  
"Freckles," Jared decides, sympathetically. "I've had to cover up blemishes, too. Some clients, man."  
  
Jensen remains impassive. Finally, when Jared thinks he's not going to respond, Jensen says, "Yeah, I ended up working all night with a client and didn't have time to remove it."  
  
This is not actual confirmation of anything, Jared has to remind himself. But what other jobs require concealer and staying up all night? If it is true, Jensen looks admirably put-together for a long night of hooking up, not followed by a shower.  
  
Jensen surprises him by asking, "What is it that you used to do?"  
  
Jared smiles. "That's classified."  
  
Jensen considers him for a long moment. When he manages to evade Jared once again, it somehow feels like progress.  
  
  
  
  
  
  
The rest of the day is awesome. Mountie in Chief Ferris gives him another demerit but commends him on the orderliness of his line and on his general good nature. Jared loves his life and he loves Canada and—  
  
As he's stepping into his apartment, he hears someone calling his name down the hall.  
  
"Jared!"  
  
He waves inside at Chad who is just pulling on jeans in the living room, then he grabs onto the door frame again and swings to look out into the hall.   
  
"Oh, hey!"  
  
It's Genevieve, their landlady. She frowns as she gets closer. "Hey, yourself."  
  
Jared is taken aback. "What did I—"  
  
"Don’t pretend you don’t know what I could be referring to."  
  
"Uh."  
  
She waits like an elementary school teacher while he thinks, while he slowly shakes his head. She crosses her arms. "Give it a second."  
  
Jared frowns and leans against the door frame, searching his mind for what Genevieve could be— "Oh! Oh shit. Uh."  
  
She sighs. "How many times, Padalecki?"  
  
"You know what?" he says. "You're totally right. It just completely slipped my mind."   
  
"I know, just...take in your recycling, Jared. I remind you every week. It shouldn't be that hard. Mrs. Mlakar on third is going to hit it with her car again. You know how old she is."   
  
Jared does actually feel some remorse. Genevieve's a really nice girl, if harried. He says, "I know. Man, I'm usually not that—"  
  
Chad shoves Jared out of the doorway. "Let's go." He looks at Genevieve, then jerks his chin down the hall. "Grab your jacket. Let's go."  
  
She frowns again. "Where are we—"  
  
"Getting you wasted in apology for leaving out the trashcans, apparently. Come on."  
  
"No, that's all right."  
  
Jared has not once seen Genevieve outside of the apartment building. She has an office on the first floor with cute flower decorations and posters from B-horror movies.  
  
"It's Saturday night!" Chard all but whines.  
  
"No, I really couldn't."  
  
"Why not?"  
  
Jared tries for puppy dog eyes. "Yeah, come on! You never come out with us."  
  
Genevieve looks away, no match for the eyes. "Fine. But I'm expecting drinks, not just weird jager shots."  
  
Chad makes gun motions. "You're a classy lady, I can dig it."  
  
She looks at him like she's already regretting her decision. "Right."  
  
Chad eats tic tacs in the doorway while Jared runs inside to pull on real clothes, and a minute or two later, Genevieve comes back in dark jeans, a coat, and strappy heels.  
  
She gives him a once-over. "You clean up well, Padalecki."  
  
"I could say the same thing about you," he says, then, "Not that you don't normally— I mean—"  
  
She sighs and drags Chad along. Jared jogs to catch up.  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
It’s winter and drifts of snow are shoved up against the sidewalks from evening street cleaning. Happy people greet each other on every corner, milling around near the homestyle restaurant on the corner and a convenience store. A car stops for them and the driver waves. It's stupid how much Jared's grown to like this town.  
  
They skirt patches of black ice and Chad tries and fails to charm Genevieve. Over half a year of five line conversations, Jared's picked up that she's lived in Larkspur for her whole life and likes animals, and that's about it. But now she's hanging out, that's something.  
  
When they reach the Bar, there's a band Jared's never heard before, but he likes them.  
  
Genevieve looks around, taking in the thick crowd and dull lights that swing over tables. "This place isn't so bad."  
  
"You seriously never come here?"  
  
"I try not to."  
  
"Oh yeah? Not your style?" Chad asks.  
  
"Yeah, that's it. Not my style."   
  
"Holy shit, you're totally lying!" Chad yells back as they push their way to the bar. "Did you get kicked out once or something?"  
  
"Okay, look," Genevieve says. "I went away to college, and stayed away for grad school." She smiles, embarrassed. "I haven't gone out much since I got back, and if I do, I go to the martini bar on Front Street."  
  
"Well then," Jared says. "This is the beginning of a beautiful tradition."  
  
He pulls out his wallet, all set to get them drinks, but then he sees who's at the bar.  
  
"Aw, man."  
  
Genevieve pulls up near his elbow. "What?"   
  
"Danneel's on tonight," he says. "She never serves us."  
  
"Why not?"  
  
"Oh, you know...."  
  
Genevieve raises an eyebrow. "You're hard to miss, Padalecki."  
  
"Yeah, well. That's how I know it's personal."  
  
"What? Did  _you_  get kicked out? Because that's honestly hilarious."  
  
"Jared's right," Chad says. "Let's go. There's a reason we only come here certain days."  
  
"Might as well go to that martini bar," Jared says, but Genevieve removes her coat and hands it to him.  
  
"Just....whatever." She looks almost annoyed. She must really want that free drink.  
  
She steps up to the bar, taps a finger on the wood, and like some sort of sorcery, Danneel turns and looks their way.   
  
Jared and Chad's jaws drop.  
  
"Holy shit."  
  
"What the—"  
  
Because Danneel is smiling.  
  
Chad looks at Jared and Jared looks at Chad. Danneel is in a black  _Frankenhooker_ t-shirt that clings to her flat stomach and she's got her hair up in a ponytail and dark eyeliner and she looks scary hot when she looks their way again, like she's actually giving her the time of day.  
  
There's a protracted silence that Jared does not dare break. This is like some quiet miracle. He wonders if they will actually get drinks.  
  
Genevieve gives Jared an unimpressed look, like 'are you really this bad at life?' Danneel looks away to serve another customer.  
  
Jared lets out a breath. "Well."  
  
But then he is interrupted when a pink drink and two beers slide down the bar to stop directly in front of them. Genevieve takes the pink one and sucks on the cherry.   
  
Chad's about to say something, but Jared steps on his foot. Danneel doesn't look their way.  
  
Genevieve takes a sip of her drink.  
  
Chad says, "Did that just—"  
  
Jared takes a beer and downs half like it's the last one he'll ever get. "I don't believe that just... Genevieve, from now on—"  
  
"Fine," she says. "I like my drinks free, anyway."  
  
"Can't argue with that." He gets a smile, for the first time maybe since they moved in. "Now, we gonna listen to the music or what?"  
  
  
  
  
  
Half an hour later, Jared is leaning back against the bar, a fourth free beer dangling from his hand while Chad tells Genevieve how he's got game. He's got natural charm, a certain magnetism. And a web show.  
  
"I don't mean to brag, but I'm kind of a big deal."  
  
"Right," she says.  
  
"No, really. You may have seen me online."  
  
"I haven't."  
  
Jared tunes this out, all of his attention focused on Christian Kane. The guy's sweating under the bright lights and totally rocking out, cupping the microphone in one hand and kind of making out with it while he croons out Texas twang like it's going out of style. Steve shoulders in and they sing the chorus into the same microphone. Jared is proud to have facilitated their movement between countries.  
  
This song's about love that's yours for the taking, about green eyes and the stars above, and it reminds Jared of home. Not his old apartment in North Dakota, and not his apartment way back at UT. It reminds him of San Antonio, of driving with the windows down in his red junker truck while night air blustered in, warm and brokenhearted.  
  
He starts paying attention again when he hears Chad say, "Naw, Jared doesn't date."  
  
"Oh, I see."  
  
"Hey. I just can't be tied down," Jared says. "There's a difference."  
  
"You've been here six months," Genevieve says.  
  
"You say that like it's a crime."  
  
"It's just, you have a nice job, doing important government work. Do you just suck at women or something?"  
  
"He does," Chad says. "He totally does! That is classic!"  
  
"All right, all right," Jared says. "I suck, I have no game. I couldn't score if my life depended on it."  
  
Chad laughs into his beer. Jared leans against the bar on an elbow and shakes his head. From '09 to the tail end of 2011, Jared slept with a comparatively high volume of customers and he was good at it, too. So, yeah. He definitely has some game.  
  
He doesn't say this aloud, though. He says, "something like that" and clinks his beer against Chad's and finishes it off. He thinks about how there are times when he really misses his old job, but life throws you the choice between self-expatriation or jail time, and you take the slings as they come.  
  
Genevieve is suddenly looking past his shoulder, eyebrows raised, and Danneel pauses wiping down the bar, looking moderately impressed. When he shifts to see past Jared, too, Chad says, "Well, damn."  
  
Jared turns to look and sees Jensen by the door. Jensen, who is dressed in a dark jacket over a dark button-down, and worn jeans.  
  
Jensen makes his way from the entrance, face lighting prettily as he pushes through the crowd. Jared fumbles for his beer and then drinks half in two seconds flat, but it doesn't do anything other than make him want to lick the salt off Jensen's neck and get his hands spanned around that waist.  
  
When they are close enough to talk, Jensen comes to a halt. He looks Jared over, something considering, and says, "Hey."  
  
Jared says, "Hey yourself."  
  
There's a lull, it seems like the whole bar's gone quiet even though the music's still going, the crowd's still talking. Jensen looks almost laid-back this time around, amused even.  
  
"You gonna buy me a drink or what?"  
  
Jared turns to the bar, widening his eyes at Danneel and praying harder than he ever has in his life that she'll serve them. Whether its because of Genevieve or she can tell this is really, extremely important to him, Danneel fills four shot glasses without saying a word, then walks away.  
  
Jared turns, aware Chad and Genevieve are watching. He and Jensen down the shots, and then Jared taps the bar top with his fingertips and says, "So."  
  
Jensen scans the bar and crowd.  
  
When he finally answers it's to say, low, "There are three exits to this place, a storage room, and a bathroom. Your pick."  
  
  
  
  
  
Two minutes later, Jared gets Jensen up against a pallet of beer cases in the storage room.  
  
He shucks his jacket off onto a half-open box of tequila bottles in the corner, then steps in close.   
  
"Oh great," Jensen says. "Is this retribution for the hug thing?"  
  
But he's sliding hands into Jared's back pockets to grab his ass and urge him closer, a move that's surprisingly handsy for someone who doesn't like to be touched, so Jared doesn't stop.  
  
"Maybe."  
  
Jared loves the way his hands look splayed over Jensen's hips, thumbs through belt loops, and how hot Jensen's body is against him.  
  
Jensen raises an eyebrow, something smug, but Jared's feeling pretty smug himself. He rubs his knuckles between them, down Jensen's abs, and says, "So, any restrictions?"  
  
Jensen catches Jared's hand and twists, just this side of painful. He drags Jared down an inch and says against his mouth, "Yeah. Nothing above the belt. You?"  
  
"No kissing," Jared says, Jensen's breath on his lips.  
  
Jensen's eyes don't even flicker to Jared's mouth, he just holds eye contact and says, "Wouldn't dream of it."  
  
Jared drops to his knees.  
  
He's not on autopilot but just really fucking into this, dragging his hands down Jensen's thighs and rubbing his cheek against the line of Jensen's dick, pulling a surprised sound.  
  
"Dude," Jensen says. "My jeans are still on—"  
  
"You always a talker?"  
  
There's an annoyed silence. Jared finally looks up, and then shoots a pointed look at the belt that's at eye-level.  
  
Jensen says, "Lazyass," under his breath, and undoes the buckle.   
  
He gets Jensen's fly down, no hands, pulling the tab with his teeth before fisting handfuls of jeans and tugging them down to Jensen's ankles. He looks up to where Jensen's eyes are lowered, mouth open, breathing quick in anticipation.   
  
"That's it," Jared tells him. "You gonna be good for me, sweetheart?"  
  
Jensen laughs. It's breathless. "Now who's a talker?"  
  
"I don't have to be. I can do it any way you like."   
  
Jared can. He knows how to sweet-talk a nervous guy into feeling like a champ, and he can talk dirty with the best of them. He rubs his cheek over Jensen's boxer briefs, then tugs them down, feeling an answering twitch in his own pants.  
  
He stops when Jensen puts a hand in his hair. Jared looks up at him again. Of course, Jensen's a pro. Jared recognizes this waiting game as a technique he uses to ramp up the sexual tension.  
  
But then, Jensen sticks a hand in his back pocket and pulls out a condom. Jared looks at it and then back to Jensen's face.  
  
"All right," Jared says, like a question.  
  
"That a problem?"  
  
Jensen must be all about safe sex, which is obviously a good thing. Jared personally never did anal without protection, but there were a few blow jobs, when offered enough money— Jared feels oddly cowed by this, Jensen being safer than he is.  
  
Well, he's going to make it good for Jensen, he'll make sure of it. Getting a fellow guy in their line of work laid back against crates in a back room, totally hard for it, has piqued Jared's competitive streak.  
  
Jensen rips open the condom packet, and says, "Hurry up and blow me."  
  
"Nice," Jared deadpans, but gets to it, pulse picking up.  
  
He uses his mouth on Jensen again, latex unrolling under his lips down the length of him, as far as Jared can go. Jensen scrapes his fingers through Jared's hair and tugs.  
  
Jared's almost choking, his jaw aches. He hasn't done this in months, a guy gets out of practice. Jensen seems to notice. He presses a knuckle against Jared's jaw, says, "You got it."  
  
Jared may be a pro, but that doesn't change the fact that this is the hottest thing. And it doesn't mean he's not surprised when Jensen hauls him up after he's finished and pushes Jared back against a leaking cooler. He shoves a hand in Jared's pants and fists him, biting the side of Jared's neck.  
  
It's slightly sinister. Jared comes, hard.  
  
When twenty seconds have passed—maybe a minute—Jared pushes Jensen off. He says, "So, following guys into potentially hazardous storage rooms. You do that for all your clients?"  
  
Jensen says, "No, gotta say this is a real first for me."  
  
Jared's glad to hear Jensen isn't sketchy for just anyone. His knees ache as he zips up his jeans.  
  
"So," he asks. "Why this bar?"  
  
Jensen doesn't look at him. "Only one in town."  
  
"True."  
  
Jensen shrugs. "I like the music."  
  
Jared says, "Can't take the Texas outta the boy, I guess."  
  
"You're delusional, man." Jensen's still not looking at him and Jared knows how it goes. Jensen rights his jacket and says, bland, "It's a fucking lie. You hear any Texas in my voice?"  
  
The storage room window is small and high on the wall. Jensen leaps through it like it's nothing, leaving Jared to go back into the bar alone. Fucking show off.


	2. Chapter 2

Jared doesn't see Jensen for three days.

He sees him again Tuesday, when he's arguing with an woman quite advanced in her years, trying to sound reasonable even though it's the fourth time he's said it: "Ma'am, you can't carry your ice cream into America."

"Young man," she says. "I've been carrying my ice cream into America every morning since 1965. And what's more, I bought this from the tourist shop and they assured me I would be allowed to bring it over, so I will proceed to do so."

Miss Gray waves her ice cream cone with conviction.

"Fine," Jared says. "But the weather's getting cold, I don't want you getting sick."

She frowns at him, gives him a chilly hug, and then leaves. There are a lot of rules that he has to abide by. He looks over to Aldis for support, but he's talking with Alona. Adrianne gives him a thumbs up from her booth, though.

A Mountie is brave and a Mountie is fair, Mountie in Chief Ferris explained once, but it is really Aldis who takes it upon himself to teach Jared all he needs to know. He told Jared how the newest recruit has to sing the opening song when he arrives at the station every morning and then muck out the Mountie stables, and how Mounties were allowed to give out tickets with America's Hat gift cards to people who are caught doing especially good work in the community.

"Deal with that sort of thing often?"

Jared turns. Jensen is next in line. He's stealthy as usual, and really very attractive. Jared goes warm all over just seeing him, but reins it in; just because he and Jensen are both past and/or present sex-workers and Jared thinks they could get along really fucking well, doesn't mean Jensen hasn't gotten him nearly fired a time or two.

In fact, Jared fights a grin so hard he frowns when he says, "Sometimes people won't hug me at all."

Jensen passes his passport over, and says, "Sorry, man. That must really suck for you."

"Thanks." Jared runs a finger over Jensen's information which he knows by heart, and then returns it. "You're good." He steps around the booth and opens his arms, somehow doubting that a quickie in a bar amounts to absolute trust. He tries anyway. "Hug?"

Jensen raises an eyebrow and turns to go.

"Hang on a second," says Alona. "Is that—"

Jensen says, "Oh shit," and does an about-face to step right into Jared's open arms.

"Oof." Jared is so unprepared for this.

Jensen is solid and warm against him, burying his face in Jared's shoulder, the curve of his back fitted perfect under Jared's hand. Even though one of his sole preoccupations has been trying to hug Jensen, Jared had never expected to succeed, not really. But here Jensen is, tucked in like a kitten, and he gets a full-body shimmer feeling when Jensen's hair prickles his neck. 

Peripherally, he hears Aldis say to Alona, "What is it?"

"Oh, nothing," she says. "I thought I saw this guy that I— don’t worry about it."

Jensen smells like aftershave and something sharp, almost like what Jared would imagine gunpowder to smell like. Jared has his eyes closed and no idea how long this hug has gone on for. It has definitely surpassed seven seconds and is moving deep and quick to unprofessional. It's long enough for him to relax into it, to note how Jensen is the perfect height and hard in all the right places. In fact, all of the places. He shifts and Jensen tucks in closer, almost like he's hiding rather than just suddenly down with the law.

"Dude," Jared snickers. "That a gun in your pants or you just happy to see me?"

As they are currently pressed together from knee to shoulder, Jared can feel exactly how that statement hits, when Jensen goes completely rigid in his arms. He mentally kicks himself. 

"Sorry," he says — because of course you don't make dick jokes when a guy's finally allowed you to get your arms around him — but Jensen's already pulling back stiffly.

"No, you're right," Jensen says, not meeting Jared's eyes. "I'm just really happy to see you. Totally not a gun. I'll be going now."

"Wha—"

"Jensen Ackles!"

It's Alona.

"Shit," Jensen says again.

Alona is stalking toward Jared's booth, which is confusing, and Jensen is frozen in place.

"It is you!"

Jensen pulls up a jacket collar, but it only covers his chin. He says, "Not Jensen Ackles, you must have me confused with someone else."

Alona squints at him, and Jensen looks at Jared, eyes pleading, then steps closer and throws his arm around Jared's waist. Jared melts a little, due to having achieved twice in one day what he's been trying to accomplish for weeks.

"Just visiting my boyfriend," Jensen says, followed by, "I'm a Canadian."

Jared gives the top of Jensen's head a look that is incredulous. For his part, Jensen shrugs and smiles up at him, something open and unworried.

"Yeah," Alona says. "I guess I was confused. You looked familiar."

"Just have one of those faces, I guess."

She blinks. "Yeah. You do look a bit different from the guy I'm thinking of, and your accent is completely different. Huh."

She wanders back to Aldis, and when Jared looks down, Jensen smiles again and squeezes his waist. "I'll see you later, baby."

He disengages and walks away at a quick, casual stride.

It takes a couple seconds but then Jared breaks out of his shock and leaves his post, jogging to where Jensen's dangerously close to the dotted line. 

"No, wait!"

He grabs Jensen's arm, and then ducks in and says, low, so no one else can hear, "One blow job and you're ready to get married?"

"Shut the fuck up," Jensen whispers back. He jerks away, and steps into America.

Jared watches him go.

 

 

When he wanders back to his booth, Alona and Aldis are looking very pleased with themselves.

Alona puts a hand on her hip, back to her usual self. "Boyfriend, huh?" 

Jared feels surprisingly disappointed saying it. "He's not my boyfriend."

"Told you," Aldis tells Alona. "There's been a lot of sexual tension."

"No, really," Jared says.

"Oh I see," Alona says. "This whole time he's been playing hard to get."

"Gotta catch up, man."

Jared has a bad feeling about this. He hears Aldis tell Alona: "You owe me twenty bucks. As in, dollars. As in, American."

"Fine," Alona grumps. She pulls a twenty out of nowhere and hands it over. "The exchange rate is nearly one to one anyway. Gotta go. I'll see you tomorrow."

"Have fun at work!"

They watch her go.

"What does she even do?" Jared asks.

"I have no idea." Aldis sighs happily before he snaps himself out of it, and says, "Really, Padalecki? This from the guy teasing me about dating a civ?"

"I guess so," Jared says. He feels very uncertain. "Anyway, you guys aren't even dating."

"The girl's a bombshell, I'll take what I can get."

Jared's intercom buzzes. It's Mountie in Chief Ferris.

"Good work, Mountie Padalecki."

Jared presses the red button to respond. "Thanks."

 

 

That night, Jared sits in the center of their giant sofa, one arm along the back, the TV flickering on low volume. His legs are splayed out under the table and he's resting a cold beer against his thigh. It is his thinking pose.

Chad takes one look at him and demands, "What's going on? As your manager, it's my job to know."

"You're not my manager anymore, dickwad."

"Whatever." He comes into the room and throws himself into the embrace of their fluffy armchair. "As your roommate, then."

Silence descends.

Eventually, Chad drums his fingers against the arm of the chair. He hums under his breath a little and puts a foot up on the coffee table, before saying, "Jared, are you involved in anything illegal, morally dubious, or otherwise under the table?"

"No."

"Last time you said you hadn't been involved in something, we ended up not getting served drinks half the days of the week."

"So Danneel didn't take it very well— it was my first week on duty, and Aldis totally told me that I was allowed to give people tickets for being awesome waiters-in-line. I really freaked her out for a second."

"Dude, there are two people in town we should absolutely suck up to, and you ticketed one of them."

Jared shakes his head. "Anyway, I'm really not doing anything illegal. Remember the pact?"

"Yeah, I remember our pact. The question is, do you?"

"Hell yes I remember it!"

It had involved swearing in hushed voices, knee deep in snow, Chad whispering, 'We're going to put this shit behind us,' breath puffing icy between them. Chad leans toward Jared now, a mirror of that day.

"Are you sure though? Because it sounds like you're having second thoughts."

"I put that shit behind me once we crossed the border, just like we said. You know me, man."

Chad waves him off. "Yeah, yeah. Okay, all right. Then what are you all depressed about?"

Jared leans back again, beer to thigh. "Remember how I blew that guy in the storage room?"

"Unfortunately, yes."

Jared had gotten wasted just after and told Chad all about it.

"Well," Jared says. "Now he's telling everyone we're dating."

"Everyone who?"

"Work people."

"He came to your work?"

"Well, yeah, he's the hug guy."

Chad looks impressed. "Wow, perseverance pays off." Then, he frowns. "Hang on! I thought you said you put that shit behind you?"

"It wasn't for money!"

"Oh," Chad settles back into his chair. "Right. And now he's telling people you're his boyfriend?"

"Yes."

"You're serious."

Jared raises his eyebrows and nods, like would I joke about something like commitment?

Chad makes a gesture. "Well. Uh. Isn't it usually supposed to be the opposite? You blow a guy for years and he still tells everyone you're just football buddies?"

"That's what I thought." Jared is deeply confused. "Maybe he's using this as some sort of leverage."

"Nah. What do you even have that he wants?"

Jared inclines his head in agreement. "But he did lie about his name and he said he was Canadian, so it's gotta be something."

"Well, you said you thought he was in the business, right? Obviously he doesn't want his name out there. If this chick recognized him, it's no wonder he got all defensive. No one wants to be a public prostitute."

"Huh." That makes sense; Jared had ducked a couple people in his time.

"Look, Jay. Guy's weird. No crime in that. So cut him some slack. He's one of us. Probably needs a friend."

"Yeah...."

"And if people touch him, like, for work, it would suck balls to cross the border that often and get molested on top of that, you know?"

Chad always puts things in perspective. If Jensen needs a friend? Well, Jared can do that.

 

 

Jared is going to go about things in a more level-headed way, how he should have in the first place. And like Chad said, if Jensen's one of them, then he and Jared will be able to understand each other the way only people who've made a couple years' living off sleeping with people of all gender, manner, and legal age can. 

Jared's completely working, though, really relaxed, taking things as they come. He'll deal with Jensen when he comes through the line. If he comes through the line.

Aldis waves at Jared while he's hugging some girl and telling her to have a good day. "Yo."

"Yeah?"

"Alona wants me to ask you if you if you've ever lived in the US?"

This almost throws Jared off his game. He looks over a passport and not at Aldis.

"Nah," he says, voice surprisingly steady.

He wonders if maybe Jensen told them, if it had slipped out somehow or if maybe he'd done it on purpose. But that would only implicate Jensen as well, and Jared doesn't think he'd do that.

"Were you ever involved with the government?" Alona asks.

"What?"

Her eyes are strangely intent on Jared. "You said you hadn't always been a Mountie."

Jared can't remember telling her that, but he kind of runs off at the mouth sometimes. "Nope," he says.

"Were you ever involved with higher-ups in the American government?" she repeats. "Or perhaps a head of any influential head of a company or organization?"

"Is it actually okay for you to hang around here?" Jared asks. "Don't you have a job or something?"

She smiles. "It's a simple enough question, Mountie Padalecki."

Aldis slaps his booth. "She's so funny."

Jared goes for joking, but maybe misses it by one point six kilometers. "Sorry, but I can only release that information with permission from my past employer." Who is probably wasted, playing Red Dead Redemption right now at their apartment.

Jensen arrives then, of course. Jared had been preparing to clear the air, but now he smiles at Jensen with heartfelt relief. Jensen considers Jared then darts a look at Alona. He's got good instincts. He angles in close over the booth while Jared checks his passport.

"How's your day going?"

"Good, good."

Jared is aware of Alona watching them, but for now he feels protected. He smiles ruefully at Jensen, who raises an eyebrow.

"So," Jared says.

Jensen waits, doesn't leave. Of course, Jared is holding his passport, but still. Now is as good a time as any. And Alona doesn't know anything, Jared is just paranoid.

"So. Uh." He fumbles. He has absolutely never been nervous around anyone since he was seventeen, praying to god he could get to second base after the game. He reminds himself he just wants to hang out with Jensen, and he takes a breath. "So, the Hat. That coffee shop over there." 

They both look out the station, then back to each other.

"Let's go some time," Jared says.

Jensen stares at him.

Jared rolls his eyes. "I mean, we are dating and all."

Jensen's mouth quirks, but if he's going to say anything, it's cut off when Alona suddenly says, "Jensen Ackles!"

Jared looks past Jensen's shoulder.

"Mountie Padalecki," she says. "Show me that man's passport."

Affronted, Jared tells her, "I am not permitted to show one border goer's personal information to another border goer. By Mountie code, I'm sure."

Alona marches up. "Ackles, it is you. Don't bother lying, I can recognize you, even under that ridiculous toothbrush mustache that’s taking over half your face."

There's a beat during which Jared looks at Jensen and Jensen looks at Jared, and then Jensen turns.

He rips off his mustache, and they all wince.

"Fine," he says, after collecting himself. "I recognize you, too, even though you're wearing shoes and we no longer have the same haircut."

Alona stares at him. "What are you doing here, Ackles?"

Jensen has been made; there's really no question in Jared's mind.

Jensen's keeping it together admirably though. He says, "Of course you'll remember that thing that happened?"

Alona nods almost imperceptibly. "I do. Everyone does."

"Well, it didn't actually happen. And I felt honor-bound to make it right."

"Why?"

The first hint of emotion enters his voice. "You know why."

There is a long pause. Jared would be more fidgety about this happening at his booth, but he's dying to know how this is going to turn out, and also his line of border crossers has rerouted itself to Aldis's by itself. His line is smart and wonderful, as always. If he had enough in store, he would give them all Hat gift cards.

As it is, Jared tries to fade into the background and let this run its course. He sneaks looks at Jensen's mouth. It is a very nice mouth, one he'd never gotten a good look at before.

"All right," Alona says.

"Really? You'd do that."

Alona points at him. "I'll let it go, but you only have two weeks."

Jensen's face goes to mock surprise. "Why, Tal... is this a truce?"

"It would seem so."

She holds out a hand. Jensen stares at it, before slowly placing his hand in hers and squeezing. The handshake seems to be less about burgeoning goodwill and sealing a deal, and more about seeing who folds first. 

Jared keeps watching until he feels compelled to intercede; there is no reason for this to get awkward. 

"Well." He spreads his hands. "What's a little deception between friends, am I right?"

They both turn to him, like they're surprised he's still there, and then share a look Jared cannot parse.

Alona says, "But Jensen. Remember, I'm not the only one who knows you're here."

"Duh," Jensen says.

Alona leaves without a backward glance, Jensen staring after her, Jared idling by his side.

Aldis leans over his booth and shouts after her, "Have a good day at work, babe!"

Jared thinks maybe this whole thing should be unsettling, but it's only on a visceral level, upper-lip sympathy, and Jared isn't surprised to find that he still thinks Jensen is a pretty worthwhile guy. Jared's always had that problem, he goes with his gut.

Jensen finally turns.

"So," Jared says, breaking the moment. "Still taking me out to coffee?"

"Freeloader," Jared tells him. 

"Friday?" Jensen asks.

"Okay." He looks Jared over, and Jared suddenly gets this overwhelming urge to take his hand and do something completely uncalled for.

It hasn't even crossed his mind to grab Jensen into a hug while he's within reach, because worrying about the job at a time like this, Jensen recently exposed, would be stupid. Now, though, Jared steps around his booth and Jensen raises an eyebrow like he's at least somewhat impressed by Jared's tenacity. Jared spreads his arms wide and announces his intentions to Jensen and the room at large, so that when Jensen evades him again, at least Jared won't be given another demerit: "By Mountie code I am required to give you a hug."

"I don't think so man," says Jensen, and the look on his face is totally relief. "But it's admirable that you keep on trying."

"...admirable."

"You know...." Jensen says, walking backward out of the country with his hands shoved deep in his pockets. "Honorable, and funny, or something. Keep up the good work."

Jared asks, "Is it working? You impressed?"

A smile crooks Jensen's mouth, small but unmistakable. "What do you think?"

Jared should be focusing on his job, on upholding Mountie tradition and on not getting fired. Instead he's reeling, happy. Without his mustache, Jensen's chuckle seems friendly, rather than malicious, and Jared, watching Jensen from across the booth, finds that he really likes the change.

 

 

Unrelatedly, Jared does one hundred and fifty pushups before their five o'clock meet up Friday night. 

"You ran 6k this morning and picked up the frozen ham a lot like it was a weight," Chad tells him. "In case you didn't notice."

Jared hadn't noticed. It's no big deal, though. He works out all the time.

"I told my viewers that you finally have a date," Chad says. "They send you their well-wishes."

"That says a lot, coming from a bunch of science nerds."

"They're not science nerds. They're enthusiasts." Chad has always been very interested in chemistry, with a special leaning toward explosives, and when they'd gotten to Canada he had started ordering supplies and producing two-minute segments debunking or confirming stuff seen on TV. It has also turned into something of a confessional.

"Well, tell them thanks," says Jared. "But it's really not a date."

He may or may not wear his favorite old t-shirt that night, too, and a jacket that's weirdly stylish, and it's possible his stomach keeps jumping in anticipation. But it's no big, he just hasn't been on a date-shaped thing that didn't involve being paid four figures since middle school. In fact, getting coffee with the hottest guy in the universe who is kind of a jerk is pretty much the most romantic thing that's happened to him since his first kiss, which was in an actual tree when he was twelve.

When he gets to the Hat, he can't immediately spot Jensen. He idles by the display case and says hey when Kim comes by.

"Hey darling, what can I get you?"

"Nothing, I'm just waiting for this guy."

Kim is Jared's favorite, not because she drizzles caramel hearts on Jared's whipped cream, even when he doesn't ask, but because she is exceedingly nice.

"Well, you tell me when you need something."

Jared suddenly understands the phrase 'steps out of the woodwork' because Jensen appears out of nowhere, and the walls are made of wood.

Jared starts. "How do you do that?"

"Oh, you know. Extensive training."

Jensen smiles. Jared's heart clenches. This could be serious.

"So," Jared says. "Coffee. I know you like it, you always have a cup with you."

"Well, it is listed as my only weakness," Jensen says.

"Listed?" He laughs.

Jensen stares at him. "Yeah. Did you pull my file, or are you that observant?"

"Just observant, I guess."

Jared shoves his hands in his pockets. Jensen idles. A phone rings.

"That you?"

Jensen pulls it out and looks at the screen. "Yeah."

"You can answer it," Jared says, unsure if Jensen's trying to stand on date etiquette.

"Oh, I never answer."

"Should I ask why?"

"It could be anyone," Jensen says. "Obviously."

Jared grins and repeats, "Obviously. Paranoid bastard," and feels overly fond, and then it's their turn to order.

When Jensen and Jared get their double Americano and soy salted caramel triple-shot, respectively, they step out into the cold evening.

Jared sucks down some whipped cream and says, "You look good without the mustache."

Jensen kicks a rock and says, "Yeah, it was a hassle. I hate disguises."

Jared laughs.

"What?"

"Nothing," Jared says. "I just like that you call them that."

"Yeah, I guess yours is more like a stripper costume than a disguise."

"Hey," Jared jokes. "I've stripped before, but that's not part of the job description."

Jensen smiles at him, and that fucking mouth, Jared could cream his pants right now.

Jensen suddenly yawns, hiding it behind his cup. "Man, I'm glad we're getting coffee."

"Tired?"

"It's been a long day. And I didn't sleep much last night. I stayed up all night with a client."

Jared says, carefully, "Odd hours come with the job. It's not exactly nine to five."

Jensen answers just as carefully, "True."

They sneak glances at each other. Jared is ninety-five percent sure they're on the level with each other, that Jensen knows about Jared's past and Jensen's admitting his. Maybe ninety-eight.

"So," Jensen says. "When you said you weren't a real Mountie—"

"Dude." Jared frowns meaningfully. He shoots a glance to passersby who could not care less. He tells Jensen, "I'm kind of undercover."

Jensen seems to catch Jared's meaning. It could still totally be Jared's imagination. "Yeah? So...you're in the business?"

He asks it, and then waits. Watching Jared. Face still impassive. Holy shit.

The realization hits Jared like a truck. He breaks out into a grin. "Yeah. I mean, used to be. I thought you were, but I wasn't certain. No freaking way! What are the odds?"

"Now who's telling the whole street about it?" Jensen says him, but his mouth totally twists into the approximation of a smile when Jared laughs out loud, and it's great.

"You know," Jared says. "I used to tell myself that even if it wasn't glamorous sometimes, it's respectable. You know what they say, it's the world's oldest profession."

Jensen furrows his brow. "Do they say that?"

"Yeah. I mean... hired out to deal with soldiers since the beginning of written history. Used to get information out of people." Actually, in his mind, being a prostitute used to sort of feel like being a spy. 

It's Jensen's turn to sound pointed, like he's agreeing. "We've been sort of invisible throughout history, haven't we."

"Totally. It's really misunderstood by the public. People have all these false ideas about how we're supposed to be, really stereotyping a group of people based on their employment. And it's hard work! Man, this one time—"

He stops. He realizes he's babbling, pleased that Jensen has more or less confirmed it and finally opened up to him, but somehow it makes Jared feel a little disappointed as well. He imagines Jensen with faceless men across the country, even women probably, and suddenly realizes how people must have felt when they found out about Jared. Not that he's told anyone, not really, but if he did ever try to date anyone, get serious, he suddenly realizes how they would have felt.

They're walking by a park now. There's a pond, frozen over, and a yellow slide. Jensen gives him a conspiratorial look, something dark, a look of understanding. Something in Jared loosens up.

He knocks Jared's shoulder with his. "Where are we walking?"

Jared slows and smooths the unwrinkled collar of Jensen's jacket, then tugs him by it, saying, "C'mere."

Jensen moves with it, and Jared dips his head in like it's nothing, only to be stopped by a hand on his chest, not a move to feel his awesome pecs, but to shove him away.

"What the hell?" says Jensen.

"Oh, I thought—" He thought they'd make out against the tree maybe and then they'd go from there.

"We already talked about this," Jensen says. "No kissing on the mouth. You know why that's a bad idea."

"Oh, yeah, right." Jared says, "I'm six months clean. I put that all behind me."

Jensen squints at him.

Jared hurries to say, "But I'm not looking to date anyone." He's not.

"Okay?"

Things get uncomfortable real fast. Until Jared says, "My apartment's one block over."

"Good idea."

Chad's out and the place is as messy as it always is. Jared switches on the lights and grabs them a drink, and when he comes into the living room, Jensen has the picture frame flipped over on the bookshelf.

"Oh, that's—" Jared doesn't exactly want to go into it. 

Jensen looks understanding, setting the picture back down. "Infiltrating American politics?"

"Yeah," Jared says. "Or something." 

"We going to stand out here talking about my international fame, or...."

Jensen pulls off his shirt. He pulls Jensen into his room.

With Jensen in his bed, it's hard to feel like this is nothing. Jensen let's Jared finger him open until he comes and ends up giving Jared a hickey on his bicep, of all things.

"Where did you put my other shoe?" Jensen asks him, when he's suddenly getting dressed and Jared's still half under the covers, half blissed out. He gets up on an elbow and sees the boot behind the door but waits until Jensen finds it himself, because he likes the view.

"I have to work," Jensen tells him.

"Clients to please, and all that?"

Jensen lets out a bark of laughter. "It does feel like selling yourself to the man, doesn't it?"

"No argument there. That's pretty much exactly what it is." Jared's smiling. "You know what?"

Jensen waits by the bedroom door.

"This time I'll let you off easy," Jared says, and doesn't try to hug him.

Jensen slips out while Jared's turning off his alarm.

 

 

 

"So, banging Ackles." This is Chad's intro when he throws himself onto the couch next to Jared the following morning.

Jared says, eyes glued to the screen and a mouth full of Jelly Bellys, "No, we didn't actually do that."

He is playing Red Dead Redemption, solo. He hasn't showered and his breakfast was a banana and a liter of Sprite. Thank god for Saturdays is all that can be said at this juncture.

Chad nods, sympathetic. "Because it would be too gay." Mock face of surprise. "Oh wait—"

Jared snorts. "No, because we're both in the business. We can't get involved." He does air quotes.

"You're not anymore."

Jared shrugs, doesn't say anything.

"Unless—"

There's that question hanging in the air again, and Jared glances at Chad quick before looking back to the game out of necessity. "No, for the love of— I still haven't been sleeping around for money again, if that's what you're asking."

"Good, because you know where that shit gets you."

"For the last time, douche pimp, you were the one who booked the job."

There's an extended lull in conversation in which Jared shoots a bunch of outlaws on screen, but he and Chad are both thinking back to that other life. How they'd made bank, but how it was better that it was over. Probably. 

These things come and go, he tells himself. He's a flexible guy. All he's ever wanted out of life is enough money to feed himself and enough time at home to play video games with friends, and he's pretty much got that now.

"Speaking of banging," Chad says. "For my last show, I tried to demonstrate a very delicate chemical reaction."

"I know, I watched it."

"Well, one of the upstairs neighbors may have called the cops. The Cease and Desist letter is on the fridge."

"Badge of honor," Jared says. "Please don't get us kicked out of Canada, though."

"I shall do my best." Chad grabs a remote and says, "Douche pimp, huh? You know, that's what I should have called myself."

Jared snorts. "Yeah, well, too late now. Unless—"

"No, I did not start another prostitution ring! I can't believe you're even asking!"

"Just checking, man."

 

 

Mustache gone, Jared apparently cannot stop noticing Jensen's mouth.

"Noticing?" says Chad. "More like staring."

Jared snorts. "Why do I tell you these things?"

"I keep asking myself the same question," Chad tells him. "Please realize that you are pathetic and obsessed."

Jensen's currently across the bar, getting drinks from Louis. Jared stares at him. Not obsessed.

Although, Chad was a psych minor and is randomly insightful. And Jared is absolutely fixated. He's usually just pretty easygoing, gets along fine, but somehow being told that he's not allowed to have it is really messing with his head. He had a dream a day or two ago about swimming, pulling himself through a dark and cold pool until he reached the edge where Jensen was waiting. He dreamed about kissing water off Jensen's lips and Jensen tugging him down and teaching him to breathe underwater.

"I wonder if he uses chapstick," Jared says. "His lips look really soft."

"This is not work, Jared. I don't need to hear any details."

"Why is he here?" Jared wonders.

"He has to come here. It's the one bar in town. Although he's totally distracting our bartender. Where are the free drinks? I can't pay for this shit, I don't have a job!"

"I don't know, maybe he's playing hard to get," says Jared, looking back to where Jensen is being talked at by Louis, looking impassive.

"He gives us both free drinks, if you hadn't noticed."

"He only gives me free drinks when you're standing right next to me."

Chad waves this off. "He's obviously a fan of the show."

Jared isn't usually the most talkative of guys, but this whole thing, this issue, is really annoying. "Look, it's like— It's not that I actually want to date the guy. I don't date."

"Right," Chad says. "Because you start spitting out poetry? And I'll turn you in myself."

Jared says, "I'd ask you to, believe me. But this is just... It's like, I don't know how to explain it. It's like every porno about cocksucking lips suddenly makes sense."

Now that Jared's thought of it, it's totally an apt way of describing Jensen's mouth. 

"Nice," Genevieve says. She's taken to going out with them, but hasn't exactly been won over by Chad.

"Oh, thank god," Chad says. "Tell her, not me."

"I'm not your friend," she says. "This is a business relationship. I own your apartment, and you beg me to let you stay, even though the recycling was left out again this weekend."

"He's obsessed," Chad tells her. "Like, full-blown. And when I say blown...."

"I don't actually care. I really don't." She looks over. "No offense, Jared."

"None taken," Jared says. "Hey, Genevieve."

"Hey," she says. She leans over the bar, watching Danneel who is pouring drinks at the opposite end.

She goes cute when Danneel comes to serve people near them, but then steps behind Jared.

"I have to go," Genevieve says. "To the bathroom."

When she's gone, Danneel narrows her eyes and actually speaks to Jared. "I used the giftcard."

"Sorry again about that," he says. "I think one of my buddies at the station exaggerated a little bit and I believed him."

That seems to be the end of that conversation. But she's still standing there. "What are you doing here?"

"Cheering up my boy," Chad says.

Jared confirms. "He actually is."

He glances over at Jensen and then goes to peel the label off his beer, mouth tugging into a frown, a real one. A new beer slides across the bar top. He looks up and Danneel says, "You're friends with Genevieve," and leaves them to it.

Chad shakes his head. "We're lucky she has the hots for Gen."

"She's like a god," Jared agrees. "An angry god. We basically brought her a sacrifice. Gods love sacrifices."

"You tell your boy that, he'll think you're real romantic."

Jensen's next to Jared, suddenly. "Tell me what?"

Jared jumps, totally on edge. "How do you do that?"

"Do what?"

"Nevermind. Hey, this is my roommate Chad. Chad, this is Jensen."

Chad shakes Jensen's hand and says to Jared, "Yep. He totally looks the part."

"The part?" asks Jensen, and Jared sees it coming a second before Chad says it.

"Like a hooker," Chad says, and crunches a couple pretzels.

Jensen squints at him.

Jared, on the other hand, is mortified. You don't just talk about this sort of thing in front of everyone, not without express permission. Chad knows this.

"Chad!" He frowns. "What the hell, man?"

"Sorry, we not talking about this?"

Jared scoffs.

Chad nods. "I get it. No worries." He nods to Jensen. "Nice to meet you, man."

He slaps Jared on the back as he passes.

"Sorry," Jared says. "He shouldn't have talked about that here."

"To be clear, though," Jensen says, "You do think I look like a hooker."

Jared doesn't choke on his beer. He runs a hand through his hair to give himself a second, then says, "Yeah, well. If I wasn't getting it for free, I'd pay at least five hundred."

"Is that the going rate these days?"

"Canadian," Jared says. "Just to make that clear."

"Asshole." Jensen smiles.

It knocks the wind right out of Jared. He blusters a little, saying, "If I'd of known the way to get in your pants is to call you a cheap deal, I'd have...." He thinks back to the first time they'd met up at the Bar, the proposition. "Oh wait, I guess I did do that. Huh. Lucky me."

"Whatever, Padalecki." Jensen rubs a hand over his chin like he's considering covering the smile. "Hey, so."

"So," Jared echoes. His eyes track down to that mouth that's pink and parted a bit. Jesus, this is getting bad.

"Sorry I left the other night," Jensen says. "I had a thing."

Jared shrugs. "No explanation necessary, really. It's no big."

Because it's really not. Jared doesn't do expectation. Never does. He's realistic, he's—

Jensen rubs a hand over his mouth again. "So, there's this...soiree I have to go to this Saturday."

Jared gives a mental fist pump because fucking yes, he totally knew it! He leans against the bar, all casual. "Oh yeah?"

"Yeah." Jensen looks around, anywhere but Jared. "It's kind of this fancy dress thing— your regular black tie. I thought, if you were free...."

Jared grins. "You asking me out?"

"Ha," Jensen says. "Very funny. Although, it's nice to be able to be honest with someone. You're the first guy I've wanted to talk about work with. Even one of the other guys on the job."

Jared was never embarrassed about what he did, but wasn't necessarily interested in talking each specific job out beforehand, either. He gets it.

"You're telling me. I totally get how hard it is to have an honest conversation about work. And anyone I tried to date before, the first question they ask is, 'so what do you do?'" 

"Right?" Jensen looks relieved, more open than Jared's ever seen him. "Yeah, so, I guess what I'm asking is... come with me? I could use a sidekick."

"Sure, I'll be your sidekick." Jared rolls his eyes. "You a comic book nerd as a kid?"

"As a matter of fact I was."

"Don't worry, I was, too."

Jensen sobers. "It's all right if you don't want to, though. No hard feelings. I know you said you didn't do that sort of thing anymore, but like I said, I kind of trust you, man."

Jared's feeling warm and fuzzy until he isn't. "Wait...you're asking me to do a job with you?"

Jensen frowns. "Yeah? What, did you think I was asking you on a real date or something?"

Jared experiences a moment of violent disappointment that surprises him. "No, it's just... no."

"Oh."

Jensen's watching him and Jared makes the situation easier for both of them.

"I just realized I have a thing."

Jensen repeats, "A thing?"

"Yeah." It's a lie but it's worth it. Jared puts a hand in his pocket, taps the bar with the other and looks around. "Totally forgot. Y'all have a good time, though."

"Right, I totally understand," Jensen says. "Just thought it would be nice to have backup. Just forget I said anything, all right?"

"Yeah."

They stare anywhere but at each other.

Jensen says, "Well, I guess I'll be seeing you?"

"Yeah," Jared says. "Yeah, have a nice time. Take care of yourself."

"For sure."

Jensen probably wants to slip away like he always does, so Jared turns away so he can do it.

When he turns back, Chad's walking up with Genevieve to stand where Jensen had been five seconds before. Chad has a drink in-hand that was probably free. Louis is tracking him with his eyes and Jared feels jealousy, something sad.

"Where's the hooker?"

"Shut up."

"Let's have a barbecue," Chad says. "Gen, barbecue."

"Fine," she says. "Wait, what?"

"He wants people to follow their dreams," Jared says.

"Yeah, stop wasting your fucking time," Chad tells her.

"Wow, what an excellent, non-specific pep-talk. Also, you know nothing about my dreams, such as they are."

He says, "We're inviting Danneel."

She rolls her eyes. "Good luck getting her to come."

"Hey," Chad says to Danneel when she moves by them again. Genevieve disappears. "Come to our place, Saturday, one o'clock. Wear something hot."

Danneel rolls her eyes. Jared is struck by how she and Genevieve have similar facial expressions. Similar ways of speaking, too, and similar scariness. They would be absolutely perfect together.

"No," Danneel's telling Chad. "I'm not coming to your creepy party."

"It is not a party, it's a barbecue. And it's not for me, it's for Genevieve."

She stops walking away. "I'm listening."

"Look, it's not my place to say—"

"It's not."

"But she's in love with you, man."

Danneel frowns. "I'm not a man."

"Yes, we all know that." Chad sighs, which causes Danneel to frown and put out a hand. Chad begrudgingly pays her for the drinks. "Fine, it's none of my business. But just—"

Jared would not be a true friend if he didn't help a guy out when he was being shut down by the hot bartender.

"Look," he says. "Genevieve is a great girl."

Danneel frowns. "I know. She's exceptionally great. You think I don't know that?"

"Then what's the problem? She's definitely into you, even though you guys seriously avoid each other. And there's no way you're not into her, I've seen the way you look at her and how you're always giving her free drinks. So come!"

Danneel opens her mouth, probably to say no, but Jared can't deal with it anymore. He cuts her off. "Just give it a chance. Our place is—"

"I know where your place is."

"Okay." That could be weird, but Jared presses on, staying focused. "So, are you coming?"

"I... don't work that night."

"Believe me," Chad mutters. "We know."

She considers this. "What about Louis?"

They all look to Louis, who is drying glasses and attempting to look busy. 

Chad squints, "What about Louis?"

Danneel shoots Jared a look. Jared gives Chad a discreet elbow jab to the ribs, hard.

Chad says, "Mother of— Okay, Jesus." He raises his voice, and Jared remembers why he likes the guy. He might be a giant douche sometimes, but when it comes to peoples' feelings, he plays nice. "Hey, Louis, right? You wanna join us for a barbecue this weekend? My man Jared's putting out."

"What?" Jared says.

Chad elbows Jared back, hard this time. Jared grits out, "Just because I'm not precious goods anymore doesn't mean you can—" But Chad's attention's back on Louis, who is wiping down the counter, looking pleased and weirdly embarrassed.

He says, "Yeah, man, I'd really love to. That's so great of you. Want me to bring anything? I got a special fish and chips recipe my family always makes."

Jared shoots Chad a look. Chad smiles tightly. "Yeah, whatever."

Louis's smile is pretty much blinding.

 

 

It is time to call home.

Jared's momma picks up on the third ring.

"Jared!" Her voice makes him more depressed than he'd expected. "How's business?"

"Business is...." His purported long-time, well-paying internship with a Texas-based multibillion-dollar oil company where at least half of his school went to work for has made his mother very proud. "Yeah, yeah, business is real good. Good or, I don't know, boring or something. Making money, though."

"I still don't see why you had to go all the way to Canada to work on this project," his mom says, and Jared feels a pang of homesickness. "They have shipping for a reason. And everything is outsourced these days."

Yeah, it had always been difficult to lie to his family about his job when he was a HCP, but talking around how he ended up as a member of the Royal Canadian Mounted Police is somehow more difficult to navigate.

"I told you, Momma, they transferred me, and I thought, I kind of could do with a change."

"I know, I just worry."

"How is everyone else doing?"

"Well, your father's gone real Home & Garden on me," she tells him, and then launches into a good-natured tirade about Jared's dad's choice of kitchen tiling.

Jared lets himself submerge in the familiarity, trying to ignore the horrible wrench of guilt at lying. It's old guilt, anyway. It's a sad truth, but the upside is, Jared has always been a people-person and he's really skilled at everything he puts his hands to. And he wasn't slumming it with creeps for petty cash. If anything, he was hanging off the arm of the upper echelon of society-creeps, who were willing to throw a ton of money at him for kinky sex and then a ton more to keep him quiet. 

Over the three years he was at it, he grew out his hair a little and buffed up, he made enough to live pretty well and want for nothing, and now that he is done with it... well, all in all, he has very few regrets. Except now, with the frustration of being somewhere without being able to explain in context what is bothering him to his own mother.

His mom asks when he thinks he'll be home, which draws Jared up short. He's not sure when he's going to do about holidays. He's never spent a Christmas away, but now it looks pretty set in stone.

"I'll have to get back to you on that," is what he finds himself saying instead. He can't deal with that thought now.

"Jared, you're awfully quiet. What's wrong, baby?"

Jared tips his head back against the couch. He'd decided to ask her advice, but now he can't think of how to explain it.

"Well, there's this guy—" He rushes to amend, "Someone at work."

"Tell me more."

"He wants me to work on this project with him? It's no big deal. I just... he could probably use the help."

She waits for more, but when Jared doesn't continue, she says, "What's the problem then?"

"I'm not sure I agree with the terms?"

"Jared, you're being silly. You could always just ask. You have good judgment, and I don't think you'd be asking me if you hadn't made up your mind in some way."

"You're probably right." It's definitely part of the problem.

 

 

Having a barbecue was an awesome idea. It's cold-ish outside but that doesn't change the fact that it's a Saturday afternoon and they've got good music. Jared's on the balcony having a beer, just hanging out.

But his good mood dips a little when he sees Jensen come walking through the apartment parking lot. His chest hurts a little, even.

"What?" he says, mostly to himself. "Hell no. What is he doing here?"

Genevieve gives him a sidelong look from where she's grilling steak. "Aren't you two friends?"

"They're dating." Alona looks at him innocently. "You didn't break up did you?"

"Dating!" Genevieve looks almost embarrassingly excited for him. There is also a lot of disbelief there.

Jared frowns at Alona. "Uh, no, we didn't break up. I'm so glad he's here. Ahaha."

Danneel lights a cigarette. "You're a weird one, Padalecki."

That is a safe summation. Jared thinks about what his mom said, then goes back inside, past the living room where Aldis is on the couch watching hockey, and the kitchen, where Louis is happily gutting fish for actual fish and chips at a barbecue.

When Jared opens the door into the hall, Jensen's already at the other end.

"You're quick," Jared says.

Jensen comes toward him at a lazy pace. "Yeah."

Mrs. Mlakar comes up the stairs then, her arms laden with plastic shopping bags.

"Here," Jensen says. "Let me help you."

Jared wants to roll his eyes because of course his fake boyfriend who wants him to start sleeping with rich dudes again, maybe in a threesome type way, helps old ladies with their groceries.

Mrs. Mlakar says, "Thank you, young man."

And Jensen says something that Jared doesn't understand. Mrs. Mlakar smiles widely and puts a hand on Jensen's arm, and responds, laughing.

Jared is taken aback. "You speak Slovenian?"

Jensen shrugs. He walks Mrs. Mlakar to her door and says a few more things. Jared leans against the doorjamb and watches while Jensen ducks his head to receive a kiss on the cheek, and then Mrs. Mlakar leaves them alone in the hallway.

"So...."

"Call it a hobby," Jensen says. "I'm sure you picked up a couple languages here and there on the job."

"Not really. I guess I use body language more?" The few foreign diplomats who had hired Jared had spoken English at a very advanced level. Not that talking was necessary past the initial discussion about fees, safe consent, and proper protection.

He and Jensen are just idling in the hallway. Jared is trying to remain annoyed but Jensen just puts him at ease, it's inexplicable. "You ever think you're a little overqualified?"

"For what?"

"You know....the job? Like, how'd you even end up there, you know?"

Jensen looks bemused. "Same way as you, I'm sure: natural talent recognized by recruiters."

Jared laughs. "Guess you could put it that way? Anyway, I majored in engineering. Then, I got offered the job during junior year, and thought, hey, I could make some extra money. But, you know." 

Jensen nods. "It's hard to quit."

"Yeah."

Jared had taken up hooking on the side. One week alone paid for his rent, utilities, and going out to eat for a month. He took a quarter off and just never went back. 

"Anyway, I don't really regret it," Jared tells him.

"Oh yeah?"

"Nope. You?"

Jensen gets a faraway look in his eyes. "Every day."

And there's the edge. But Jared's not going to let regret fill up the hallway. It's not a good look on Jensen. Jared suddenly can't really fault the guy for asking him to work with him. Jared may be uncomfortable about the whole thing, but the idea of Jensen doing this against his will... but it's something that's out of Jared's control. 

Jared jerks his head to the door. "So, I promised all my guests steak. And there's a game on."

Jensen follows him to the door. "Don't say it."

"What."

"Don't give me that innocent crap. I know how this goes. I totally think I got you down, only for it to turn out you're a Packers fan."

"When it's Saints vs. Packers, then yeah. Yeah, I am. Only through years of careful observation."

"Hey, Padalecki!" Genevieve says when they come in. She's across the room, holding up a picture frame. "Since when did you date?"

"Uh," says Jared. He looks to Jensen who looks back. "Make yourself comfortable."

He moves across the room. Freaking Chad.

Alona steps in next to her to take a look. "He's kind of old. Hang on, isn't that the senator of—"

"So!" Jared says. He pulls out his wallet. "Wanna see my horse? Her name's Apple. Well, she's not actually mine, but she's my favorite in the Mountie stables. I'm totally picking her when I get my riding credentials."

He's distracting them, expertly throwing them off the scent. He takes the picture frame from Genevieve's hands and pushes the picture of Adrianne cuddling Apple into her hands instead. Apple is somewhat squat, and a pretty brown color. She could win over anybody.

"Oh my god!" they both say.

Jared is a genius. He puts the picture frame under Chad's sciencey magazines.

"You and Danneel were really hitting it off on the balcony," he says, voice low.

She frowns. "I told you, it's not going to work. But it's really nice of you."

"I'm doing you a favor. Go talk to her."

Genevieve pats him on the shoulder and heads in the direction of the bathroom. Alona has disappeared somewhere without Jared noticing and so he goes out to the grill and grabs himself and Jensen some food, and then wanders in to the kitchen to get drinks. Louis is slicing potatoes on the cutting board on their one clean counter and debating with Chad over which came first, the hat or the helmet. Jared moves back into the living room.

Aldis waves a remote at him from the couch. Jared looks to Jensen who is spacing the fuck out, that much is obvious, eyes glued to the TV but unblinking, holding a beer against his leg. Aldis is talking at him about the hockey game.

Jared feels it his duty to interfere, save the damsel, maybe get a kiss for his troubles. He swings over the couch and slots in next to Jensen.

"Nice," Jensen says.

"I'm mighty flexible."

Jensen appears unmoved, save the side of his mouth twitching upward. It's very gratifying. Jared wants to taste it. But no, he's on a mission to do something for his country.

"Hey, Aldis," he says.

"Yeah, man?"

"Pass the remote, would ya? I need to check the game."

Aldis smiles. "What are you talking about? This is the game."

Jared smiles tightly back and Jensen clenches his jaw.

So, Jared is kind of an asshole. He snags the remote and changes it to football on the international channel.

"When you're suddenly on coffee duty next week, you'll know why," Aldis tells him.

"But we don't do coffee duty at the station."

"Exactly," Aldis says.

Jared shrugs and slings an arm along the back like he always does and turns the TV up a couple notches. The crowd's cheering, game in the third quarter. Jensen's knee knocks his and Jared looks over.

"Hm?"

"Bet you a handjob the Saints win."

"Oohhhkay," Aldis says, and leaves the room.

Jared watches him go, then settles back. "Nuh uh, Packers've got Rogers."

Jensen shrugs and says, "Doesn't change anything."

Jared isn't usually all that competitive, but this seems like a win-win. "Fine, you're on."

Jensen kicks up a boot to rest on the coffee table and angles a little to lean a fraction of a centimeter in Jared's direction.

Jared expects to spend the rest of the game getting increasingly worked up, noticing how close they're sitting and being happy they're just hanging out, but what really happens is Rogers makes a play and Jensen yells, "Oh come on!" and gestures to the screen and says, "That was a fluke." and Jared experiences the sweet rush of victory. Until fourth quarter when he has to concentrate completely.

"No, that was a fluke," he says.

There are four mistakes and a dirty play the ref neglects to call.

"Aw, come on," he shouts. "That doesn't count!"

"That not-counting thing's gonna get you on your knees real quick they keep it up," Jensen tells him.

"Whatever."

"Ahem."

They turn.

Danneel says, "Nice party, guys, but I gotta go."

"What! You just got here!" Jared turns more on the couch. "And what about...."

She grimaces. "You really don't know, do you?"

"Huh?"

Danneel pauses to shrug on her jacket. "It's nothing," she says. "It was a sweet thought, but I can't do this."

"But, Genevieve—" He hadn't even realized how much he cared, but he can see Genevieve sitting out on the balcony and it hits home.

"I know," Danneel says before she leaves. "Don't worry about it. I'll see you around."

"Wow." Jared feels like a total jerk.

"Yeah," Jensen says. "Wait, what's going on?"

"Wait here," Jared says. He gets up and goes out onto the balcony. Genevieve is staring into the middle distance, deep in thought.

"Hey."

She smiles at him.

"So I get the feeling you guys know each other."

"You're not a relationship counselor," she tells him. "And besides, we all have our personal sob stories. Not worth talking about."

"Come on," Jared says. "I'm a total gossip. You should see me and Aldis down at the station. We totally eavesdrop on everyone."

She clasps her hands over her knees. "Fine. Long story short, when I went away to college, I thought she wanted to break up."

"I got the feeling you two knew each other."

"Yeah, that's an understatement. And after that, I got really sad about it and didn't talk to her. Then, when I moved back, it had been a couple years, and we just didn't talk."

"But... this town is really small!"

"Believe me, I know."

"But she's right there! Giving you free drinks with cherries and generally acting like you're the best thing around. Okay, look. I'm not one to talk about my fucking feelings. But there's a girl there who loves you."

Genevieve laughs. "Why is this so important to you?"

"Fuck if I know. It's just...this is it. I know it. I can feel it." He doesn't know her at all really, but sitting with her here, he wants her to be happy. He says, "I mean, how stupid is that, but I believe it with all my heart.'

She's looking at him like he's an idiot. "Such a sap, Padalecki. I do this, you gotta promise me something."

"Of course."

"Fix things with Jensen. He's a weird guy, but I think he's into you, too."

Jared laughs. "Deal."

They look at each other until Genevieve laughs and Jared says, "Not that I want to kick you out of my party but—"

"Fine, I'm going."

Jared sits down on the couch next to Jensen after she leaves. He thinks about Chad getting all optimistic and starting fresh, how he's personally always thought it was a nice sentiment, but kind of a load of bullshit.

But maybe Chad's not wrong. And maybe Jensen's sitting next to him right now, needing Jared to help him out, and it might all turn out great.

Jared clears his throat. Jensen shoots him a glance.

"Okay," Jared says. "I'm in."

Jensen turns his head. "Huh?"

The least Jared can do is help him, give him all he can, and hope it makes him feel like a better person.

"Tonight," Jared says. "I'll come with you to that job you talked about. If you still want a sidekick or whatever stupid term you used."

"Sweet," Jensen says. "We need to leave in an hour."

 

Jared said he'd come, but it doesn't mean he has to love it. Some of the inspiration is wearing off, and he is leaning against the hotel table, arms crossed across his chest, feeling somewhat petulant imagining Jensen getting thrown down onto rich bedsheets by people who are not Jared.

"You sure you don't want to know the game plan?" Jensen calls into the room.

The bathroom door's cracked five inches, maybe seven, it's like Jensen doesn't even care if Jared's out here, doesn't care about modesty. Jared's not real modest, and Jensen apparently isn't either— you can't really be if you're in this line of work. Jared's trying hard not to get up and push the door open. He is a professional. 

"I don't," he says. "I'm coming with you, but out of some misplaced sense of dedication that you haven't earned."

There's a pause that's pointed, probably amused, then, "All right, have it your way."

Jensen has been scarily pleasant since Jared agreed. Jared goes to take a seat on the bed. He wants to flop back and close his eyes and wake up to Jensen crawling over him, telling him that Jared damn better wake up and kiss him.

Despite the idea of Jensen sleeping with other people, Jared's kind of excited about the party. Well, the food. He used to go to these things when he was around fifteen, going with his parents. Jared had loved these kind of events. He had loved being the center of attention, ladies in sparkly dresses telling him what a nice young man he was. He loved hanging with all the kids and trying to seem formal and polite like their parents had asked, but, as the night progressed, skipping around in upstairs rooms, playing crazy games of hide and seek in big backyards. 

He must be totally sunk in memories, and also Jensen has a stealth quality about him that always takes Jared by surprise, because suddenly Jared's jolted out of his own head to find Jensen bending over a table, writing out a note. 

Jared half stands on reflex. Holy fucking shit, he thinks. Holy fucking shit on a stick.

Jensen doesn't notice, thank god, and Jared lowers himself back to sitting at the edge of the mattress again, adjusting his pants like he's sixteen and has never seen a hot guy in Armani before.

Jensen apparently doesn't even go bow tie, just eschews it completely and leaves the top two buttons of his shirt open. Jared surreptitiously loosens a cuff, then the other, because apparently the dress code is more roguish than he's been led to believe.

Jensen pulls on a jacket while Jared watches, a jacket that is crisp over a shirt that's crisper and white as the fresh-fallen snow outside. His hair is ruffled with gel and his mouth is so kissable and Jared clears his throat and stands and goes to the mirror to look himself in the eyes for a silent pep-talk. He's wearing a pretty sweet grey shirt that feels like a million bucks against his skin. He looks himself over, rubs a hand over his own mouth like the pressure will help at all, thinking, keep it together man, you're a professional.

When he turns, Jensen flicks his eyes up. Interesting.

"You checking out my ass?"

Jensen shrugs. "I'm dating a hotass, so sue me."

"Yeah," he says. "You remember that."

Jensen raises an eyebrow as if to say, so that's how we're playing it, huh? but only steps in and says, "Hey, you missed a cufflink."

His fingers brush Jared's wrist, obviously deliberate. Jared tries to hold his breath, because he gets a full body sensation of longing all the way down to his polished shoes.

"So," he says. "What exactly are we doing here? In general terms."

Jensen steps away to look at himself in the mirror again. "We're going to a party where we will convince the head of a deeply influential company into giving me precious documents he has in his possession. You will be posing as my date and distracting anyone who might accidentally happen upon me while I'm working. Then, we're going to make our escape out of the second-floor balcony window."

And if Jensen hadn't raised his eyebrows conspiratorially, Jared might have almost believed him. He laughs.

"Sure, sure. And you're the sexiest super spy around. You have a code name or something?"

"No, do you?"

"Some people call me Jay, I guess?"

"Good to know," Jensen says, but his attention is already elsewhere. "Okay, just think of it as helping me get to the man who holds my entire future in his hands. It's kind of important."

"That much money, huh?"

"Yeah," Jensen says. As they're walking out the door, he adjusts Jared's collar. "Now shut the fuck up and play your part."

"Yeah, whatever."


	3. Chapter 3

  
He's not just Jensen's date, he's his husband.   
  
"Fiancé," Jensen corrects him, rolling his eyes at the Ukrainian foreign minister and jostling Jared with an elbow. He laughs. "Jared, sweetie, you're in such a rush. Remember that your parents had a long engagement, and it would break their hearts if we didn't."   
  
"He's right," Jared says easily, slinging an arm around Jensen's waist.   
  
The foreign minister looks entirely charmed. Jared is entirely charmed as well, now that Jensen's all smiles and touching him constantly. It's enough to drive anyone crazy.   
  
The foreign minister titters and says something to Jensen in Ukrainian and Jensen responds. Of course.   
  
"Your husband is very well-versed in politics," she tells Jared. "He tells me you're more of a quiet philosopher."   
  
Jared is momentarily flattered, because he's going weak in all ways, not just his knees, and his smile is real enough, must be, because then she says, "So modest. I see what you mean."   
  
Jared's starting to realize that Jensen's some sort of savant. It is super hot. Everything about Jensen is super hot and Jared has never, ever considered being married to someone, just does not give a shit about that sort of thing, but the way this minister is looking at them tonight, like they could actually be together, like it would make sense, and what with the way Jensen fits against his side so naturally, well. It's all kind of perfect and Jared should probably watch his champagne intake.   
  
At one point, a man passes and Jensen follows him with his eyes. Jensen slides his hand down Jared's arm to fit in the crook of Jared's elbow and says, "That's him," in an undertone.   
  
The job. Jared feels something cold and angry knotting in his chest but then Jensen steers them away. They are still touching like this, in  _public_ . In a room full of rich, probably straight, politicians. It almost feels like that night, six months ago, except this time something's new. Jared has felt like a badass before, and felt like a loser, he's been the jerk and also been the nice guy with everything to lose, but he's rarely seen his life from the outside and thought, 'we are beautiful.'   
  
This has the edge of something Jared can't quite identify, something decidedly dangerous. Maybe it's the martini Jensen's holding, it really does feel like some dangerous spy mission. Jared can't wait to tell Chad, who might be upset, but... But it is important that Jared be here for Jensen.   
  
"You'll have to excuse us," Jensen says to the minister.   
  
He steers them toward the drinks, and a guy almost as tall as Jared comes up to Jensen's side.   
  
"Evening," Jensen says with a nod.   
  
Jared pulls in closer to Jensen and extends a hand. "Hi, I'm Jared, Jensen's fiancé."   
  
The guy smiles like he's knows it's bullshit. "I'm Mike," he says. "Jensen's told me about you."   
  
"Yeah?"   
  
He looks to Jensen, who says, "This is my colleague, Mike."   
  
"Oh!" Jared leans in, careful that no one can hear.   
  
"His handler, really," Mike says. "Although currently estranged for reasons of state."   
  
"Oh, his pimp?"   
  
There is a beat, and then Mike laughs and Jensen joins him, laughing real hard like he can't stop. He rubs the back of his hand over his eyes and Jared just smiles, bemused. He's a funny guy, fucking hilarious when he's on a roll, but this is not really something that he'd expected to be funny. He chalks it up to being just generally awesome and sips his drink.   
  
"No, really," Mike says, once they've calmed down. He meets Jared's eyes. "Thanks for taking care of my boy. It took me a while to get out here without the higher ups taking notice. What with the way things are, it's not a good idea to be seen together that often."   
  
"Like I said," Jared says, at a complete loss. "Fellow high-class prostitutes."   
  
Mike laughs again. "You're a funny one, Padalecki."   
  
Jared shrugs. Jensen's hand finds his, a staged move for anyone watching, but then Jensen curls their fingers together, which isn't. It leaves a warm heat in Jared's chest. He has never been this charmed by anything.   
  
"So, Jen tells me you're on border detail."   
  
"Yeah," Jared shrugs. "It's pretty good work. Benefits, no clients asking you to do things you feel uncomfortable about."   
  
"Man, I hear you."   
  
They talk, using few nouns and a lot of implied quotation marks. It almost sounds like code. Jared sips his drink and realizes he _likes_  Mike. Mike treats Jensen like he's some really witty, really special guy, and it makes Jared feel like Jensen's in good hands.   
  
Jensen says something about the punch in this place, and Jared throws his head back and laughs, and Mike claps an arm around Jensen's shoulder and drags him in like he can't get enough.   
  
That is, until Mike looks at his watch. "Time to get this show on the road. You good for tonight?"   
  
"Yeah," Jensen says. "I have my eye on the man." He squeezes Jared's fingers. "I'll get him alone. Jared's gonna play wingman, but leave the main event to me. Distract anyone who tries to enter the room."   
  
Jealousy hits Jared like a truck.   
  
Mike says, "You're good people, Jared. Your government will reward you for this."   
  
"Yeah, they better," Jared says. He thinks about how his government pretty much has made their feelings clear about Jared pulling jobs like this. He grimaces and finishes his drink. "You going to stick around?"   
  
"Nah," Mike says. "I'm going over tonight. Hey, Jared?"   
  
"Yeah?"   
  
"Get Jen to loosen up a little, would you?" He points at Jared. "That's your side mission."   
  
Jared nods. "Will do." As Mike's turning, Jared remembers. "Hey."   
  
"Yeah?"   
  
"Just a warning, there is this guy who's kind of camped out at the Boot. I think he's FBI."   
  
Jensen turns to him. "You serious?"   
  
"Yeah."   
  
Mike's looking between the two of them. "The Boot?"   
  
Jensen says. "Best lattes in the lower 48."   
  
Jared feels a familiar pang that's both thirst and longing.   
  
"Locals," Mike sighs. He shakes Jared's hand and squeezes Jensen's shoulder. "All right, man. I'll take care of it tonight. Thanks for the heads up."   
  
Mike claps Jared on the shoulder.   
  
"Yeah, no problem."   
  
  
  
  
Jensen is chatting up the man, who has a weak chin and an annoying habit of blinking rapidly. Jared, meanwhile, is on the lookout for fancy  _hors d'oevres_ . Just as he's accepted a pastry thing with a little hot dog in it from the garcon, Jensen snags him around the waist and drags him into his side.   
  
Jared goes easy, damn his weak resolve, but doesn't have to be happy about it. He frowns but it is lost on the head of whatever stupid company who is listening to Jensen. The other guests mill around them. Jared tries not to watch, tries not to even listen in, but he does catch a couple provocative lines.   
  
"Mr. Langley," Jensen says. "You're such an influential man, I'd love to hear more about your work."   
  
"Well, I can tell you all about it upstairs if you'd like."   
  
As he passes, Jensen whispers, "Twenty minutes, guard the stairs and then come find me," and then follows the man up the staircase.   
  
When they leave, Jared's got a cold pit in his stomach. A lot can happen in twenty minutes.   
  
Jared is frowning by the banister, as asked, when a woman comes up to him.   
  
"Good evening."   
  
Jared tries to be civil. It's not her fault he's in this situation. "Hello."   
  
"You look like a man shocked by his own luck. Was that your gentleman love that I just saw leaving you alone here by the dessert?"   
  
"My husband—sorry," Jared smiles. " _Fiancé_ . I'm just so excited to finally be able to call him that—"   
  
  
  
  
  
Jared totally lurks around the staircase, watching the clock and engaging anyone who so much as looks like they might want to go upstairs in conversation. Eighteen minutes later he goes upstairs to find Jensen. Second floor, first door on the left.   
  
He knocks and the door swings open. Jensen doesn't look ruffled in the slightest.   
  
"How was the set-up?" Jared asks.   
  
After looking both ways down the hall, Jensen grabs Jared by the shirtfront and says, "Get in here, close the door."   
  
Jared looks around. They're in an office, a nice office, obviously. He wonders if Jensen and Mr. Langley did it up against the desk or in the armchair in the corner by the crystal pen case. It's an ugly feeling, searching the room for clues. In fact, there is no trace of whomever Jensen met up here and Jensen still looks normal, like no one's had their hands all over him. Jared has no idea how he does that.    
  
"You weren't followed?" Jensen asks.   
  
Jared laughs.   
  
"Okay, good," Jensen says. "Sorry, I know you're not new to this."   
  
Jared looks him over. "You good?"   
  
"Yes," Jensen smiles. "I got everything I needed. You have no idea how much this is going to change my life."   
  
"No, I really—" Jared isn't sure he can talk about this. It's stupid how much it's getting to him, but now that he's helped Jensen out, he wants to get out and go home.   
  
But Jensen puts a hand on his arm, and looks toward the door. Jared stops as well. Jensen's listening for something. "Hold on—"   
  
There's the unmistakable sound of footsteps. Jensen grabs Jared by the shirtfront again and Jared stumbles.   
  
"Quick! Pretend to—"   
  
"What?"   
  
"Jared, kiss me!"   
  
Oh. Jared can do that.   
  
He takes a quick step, backing Jensen up against the wall, and puts a hand on the molding past Jensen's shoulder and leans in. Jensen grabs Jared's face and surges up, pressing his lips against...against his own thumbs.   
  
Kissing Jensen's fingers is arguably better than nothing, but Jared can't help but wonder what his life has come to. Jensen pulls him closer, shoulders hitting the wall as the footsteps get louder.    
  
Jared slides an arm around him, feeling like the hero of some romance novel, with Jensen curled perfectly in his arms. He touches his face and then Jensen moves to kiss Jared's jaw like an apology.   
  
The door clicks open.   
  
"What are you— Oh my! Forgive the intrusion!" It clicks shut again.   
  
Jared can feel the moment Jensen's open-mouthed thing turns to a smirk against his neck. He pulls back and looks down.    
  
"Nice," Jensen says, looking up through his eyelashes. "Perfectly done."   
  
Jared angles his face so that their noses brush. Jensen tips his head back to compensate and raises an eyebrow.   
  
"Jared?"   
  
"Still undercover," Jared says. He raises a hand to cup Jensen's face, but doesn't quite, staring at Jensen's mouth that's parted and bitable. He says, "We could probably—"   
  
Jensen puts a hand over Jared's mouth, jerking away, head knocking against the wood. It's pretty much the opposite of how Jared hoped he'd react.   
  
"Dude," Jensen says.   
  
"I thought you said—"   
  
"Not on the mouth. Remember? You know why that's a bad idea."   
  
Jared feels hot around the neck and embarrassed. "Shit, I'm sorry," He steps back. "You're right, I shouldn't push."   
  
"Jared... I mean, maybe if...."   
  
Jared searches Jensen's face for something, some trace of interest, lust or even longing, with all of its fucked up, fuck-me-over consequences. He just wants to know he's touched Jensen in some way, after all these weeks of Jensen getting under his skin. But there's nothing. Nothing but vague concern, like maybe Jared's a liability.    
  
"No, you're right. Of course you're right." Jared turns away. "I guess I got caught up, is all."   
  
"Jared."   
  
"Are you done here?"   
  
"Yeah, I got what I needed. Let's go."   
  
Jared closes his eyes to collect himself, telling himself this is no big deal, willing his stomach to stop doing whatever it is that it's doing. When he opens his eyes again, Jensen is gone. Jared hadn't even heard the door open.   
  
Jared should follow him, but he goes to the open window, just for a second. He rests a hand on the sill and looks out over the long gardens, blue with snow. He feels like he's in the most remote town in the world, the night dark without city lights, a brush of stars spilled across the sky.   
  
A harsh whisper echoes from somewhere. "Jay!"   
  
Jared looks down. He can make out Jensen's on the ground, by the hedges, a floor down and in the shadows of the mansion.   
  
"What the hell?"   
  
"What are you waiting for?" Jensen whispers. "Get down here!"   
  
"Down there?" Jensen doesn't respond, and he says, "Okay, fine."   
  
He swings a leg out the window and waits. Jensen doesn't tell him not to climb out the window, so Jared continues lowering himself down. He barely misses jumping into a hedge.   
  
Jensen grabs him by the elbow and leads him swiftly around the house, down the driveway, and out to the front gate, from which point a cab picks them up.   
  
"Wow," Jared says, looking back at the mansion and then to the cab which is humming streetside. "That was... lucky."   
  
The cab ride back is mostly silent. Jared just wants to get home and sleep for a year. He's got a bad taste in his mouth, a strange feeling.   
  
When the car pulls up to the curb by his apartment, Jensen says, "Thanks again. You were great out there."   
  
"No problem. I just..." He looks at Jensen. Jensen's just another dude, someone Jared gets with very little effort. He likes him, a lot. More than he should. He says, "I can't do that again."   
  
"Don't worry, there's no next time," Jensen says. "I got what I needed. My future's secure. Thanks to you, really."   
  
All Jared wants to do is invite him up. Instead, he realizes, he has to let him go.   
  
"Well."   
  
"If you wanted to... I mean, you have job, a life here, but." Jensen stops.   
  
"Don't worry about it," Jared says. "It's fine, you know?"   
  
"Well," Jensen says. "Have a good one."   
  
"Yeah, you too."   
  
He waits for a second, not quite looking at Jensen looking down at his hands, before he walks away.   
  
It's only eleven. Jared goes up to his apartment, locks the door behind him, and tosses the keys onto the counter, but then freezes when he sees a strange light in the living room.   
  
He steps into the room, and then flips on the kitchen lights.   
  
It's Chad on the couch, tufty hair sticking out from the top of the blanket. He's got his laptop open under there.   
  
"Sorry, I'll just—"   
  
"Jay!"   
  
Jared keeps his eyes averted, out of respect. "Yeah?"   
  
"I have something to tell you. It's fucking hilarious."   
  
Jared turns. "What's hilarious?"   
  
Chad defines hilarious differently than Jared. This is proven when Chad rolls out of the blankets, and puts the laptop on the coffee table. He pushes the screen back and gestures for Jared to read.   
  
It's a newspaper article. Chad reads, "Wealthy oil tycoon's son meets family tragedy."   
  
"You're reading the news?" Jared asks, settling next to him in the pile of blankets.   
  
"Just read the damn article."   
  
Jared reads hunched over, unsure of where Chad is going with this, but game for any kind of distraction after the night he's had.   
  
After the first two paragraphs, his mouth has gone dry, and his hand shakes as he clicks the down arrow. And it's not just this article— there are a bunch of tabs open. He clicks through them to find that they all mention Jensen. Jensen Ackles, the heir to Moncton Oil went missing after a family scandal which resulted in the loss of his family's company and prestige.   
  
"Wait, I know about this," says Jared.   
  
"What?"   
  
"A bunch of people I know were laid off during that scandal. Everyone heard about it. And... and I used to know that kid. Jensen, I mean. I met him once. At some party my parents took me to."   
  
"Oh yeah, your rich kid past."   
  
"Yeah. He was my first kiss. Hug guy."   
  
Chad stares at him. "You're fucking with me."   
  
"No." Jared laughs, feeling a sort of hollow disbelief. "And it was in a tree."   
  
He barely remembers that night, just some vague memory of a kid whose shirt looked so nice that Jared had to wrestle him into the dirt by some hedges. And after tag, they'd climbed a tree in the dark. When Jared pulled himself up second, they'd thrown some twigs at a couple people passing by and the conversation stretched with anticipation until Jared had carefully tipped forward from one branch to the next, and kissed Jensen against the trunk.   
  
Jared skims the article on the screen, thinking back, heart hammering in his chest. Jensen disappeared immediately after the scandal, and no one's seen or heard from him since.   
  
"A year," he says, feeling sick. "He was driven into prostitution. He didn't want this life. And I was just part of it. Jesus."   
  
Chad leaves and returns with a beer. Jared takes it and just holds it. He needs to think.   
  
Eventually he puts his head in his hands. "What is going on?"   
  
He's mainly addressing the tabletop, but then Chad says, "Okay, you shouldn't drink right now," and nudges a joint toward him.   
  
"Life's a trip," he says, sagely, and like it's an axiom he's spent years gathering life experience and anecdotal evidence to arrive at this conclusion.   
  
Jared starts, "I don't—"   
  
"It's the middle of the night and you're freaked. Call your boy later. Let's play video games and let it sit."   
  
Jared nods. "Thanks, Chad."   
  
"It's chill."   
  
Jared fishes out the controllers from the crack in the couch cushions. Chad uses tongs left on the coffee table from the barbecue to lean as far as he can without his ass actually leaving the couch. Just as he manages to push the PS3 power button, Jared sits up straight.   
  
"Holy— Chad!"   
  
"That's my name, don't w—"   
  
Jared pulls his hands through his hair in distress. "No, I mean— He's going to make a run for it!"   
  
"Huh?"   
  
"Tonight! Right now! That's why he said this was his last job when he dropped me off."   
  
"He really said that?"   
  
"I need to get to the station."   
  
Jared divests himself of his suit, right there in the living room, and squeezes into his tight shorts and buckled jacket. He'd left the uniform crumpled in an armchair yesterday like it was nothing, but now it is the key to everything, his saving grace.   
  
He smooths a long sock over each foot and then steps into black boots. He tightens the laces and knots twin shoelace bows.    
  
"He's leaving?" Chad asks, starting to panic. "Take my scooter!"   
  
"You're a good friend," Jared tells him wildly, like maybe he'll never see him again. "The best."   
  
"What the fuck are you waiting for!"   
  
  
  
  
Jared may have only remedial horse-riding talents, but he's fucking awesome at riding a scooter. Unfortunately, it sputters and slows half a block from the border checkpoint.   
  
"No," Jared says.   
  
The street is dark and lonely and the gas gauge reads empty.   
  
"All right," he says under his breath. "Okay. Sorry about this," he tells the scooter as he leaves it parked against someone's mailbox. He'll text Chad the address of where he ditched it later.   
  
He takes off at a jog, boots hitting the pavement. He can run five miles in his sleep, even though it's started to snow; he's got this.   
  
He sprints into the station. It's empty except for Aldis leaning against his booth, staring into space.   
  
"Jensen!"   
  
His voice echoes obscenely. Aldis starts.   
  
"Was Jensen here?"   
  
"Yeah, he crossed ten minutes ago."   
  
"Dammit!" Jared turns toward the line dotted across the floor in worn red paint, where Jensen had walked out the exit, into the United States, where student-loan-avoidant, ex-prostitutes daren't tread. Jared slows as he closes in on it, gets toes-to-the-line stalled, staring stupidly into the snow that's blowing past.   
  
"You need to talk to him or something? Padalecki?" Aldis says. "You okay, man?"   
  
For the first time, Jared feels cowardly, rather than safe on the other side. But it's not like he can allow Jensen to just walk away, into this mini-blizzard and out of Jared's life for good. That's not how this story is going to go, not if Jared can help it. Even if he's thousands of miles and a lifetime away, Jared's still from Texas, dammit.   
  
He lets out some sort of distraught noise, that could retrospectively be considered a battle cry, the sound of a man who has his mind made up.    
  
"Mountie Padalecki!"   
  
He doesn't slow his sprint toward the stable door. "Sorry!" he yells behind him. "Important!"   
  
Once inside, he races down the dirt aisle until he reaches Apple's stall, where he vaults over the railing. She starts but he reaches out and pats her nose.   
  
"Hey, darlin'. We've got an urgent situation here."   
  
It is three minutes before he's got her saddled up. He should have ridden one of the horses they had at the ready, like Cupcake or Dash, but he needs his girl with him on this.   
  
He opens the gate and walks her out, and when he gets to the exit, Aldis is waiting for him, stable doors opened.   
  
"You sap," Jared says, getting a foot in the stirrup.   
  
"Good luck," Aldis says, in the tone of one who fully believes a race to win one's dreams is possible.   
  
Heartened, Jared rides out into the freezing world, full tilt, Apple kicking up cold dust and straw behind them and then clickety clacking out onto the asphalt, leaving dark hoof prints in the snowy road. He kicks his heels and Apple gallops out. The wind is blowing from behind, and snowflakes as big as quarters are swirling down. The only sound is Jared's own harsh breathing and the clopping of horse hooves.   
  
It feels like a quiet end of the world, Jared losing more and more resolve as he rides down the road and doesn't see Jensen anywhere. He's all adrenaline, heart pounding. He doubles back and rides the other way. It suddenly occurs to him for real that he might never see Jensen again.   
  
"C'mon," Jared mutters. "Jensen, where the hell are you?"   
  
He sees him, then. A dark shape trudging down the road, through inches of snow in a thin jacket and no gloves.   
  
"Jensen!" Jared spurs Apple on with a kick to her sides.   
  
Jensen walks faster. His shoulders are rounded against the wind and Jared catches up to him easily. He pulls Apple to a walk next to him and says, "Get up here."   
  
Jensen says, "Go away, Jared." It's loud, clear, and Jensen doesn't look at him, just keeps walking.    
  
"No. Jensen, give me your arm."   
  
"I'm not getting on your horse. I have to go."   
  
"Jensen, dammit! You can't leave like this."   
  
"Jared," Jensen says. "It's not just me this affects. It's my family. I have to—"   
  
"You have to what? Is someone threatening you?"   
  
"You said you didn't want to know. It's better if you don't. I have to go. Just let me, Jared. I have to."   
  
"Why?"   
  
Jared jerks back on the reins and dismounts. He's shaking with cold, bare legged and hat blown off somewhere. He jogs up to Jensen and grabs him by the shoulder. Jensen shakes him off, but Jared grabs him again and holds on.   
  
Jensen whirls, outraged. "What the hell do you think you're doing?"   
  
"Why do you have to be your usual damn self?" Jared yells. He's probably scaring Apple and that makes him even angrier. "Why can't you ever listen to me? Why can't you see that—"   
  
"This is me, okay?" Jensen's voice is hoarse. He steps in, angry puffs marking every breath. "And you like me, that's fine. But I have things I need to do. I know you've put the job behind you, but this is my life, Jared. It's my whole life." He doesn't look angry anymore, just sorry, cheeks pink with cold in the light from the streetlamps and sorry like he's leaving for real, mind made up. He sounds like he's pleading when he says, "I can't be attached like that, you know?"   
  
Jared catches Jensen's hand before Jensen moves away. He turns it to kiss the palm and then curls their cold fingers together like Jensen had earlier.   
  
"I can't stop thinking about you," he tells him. "Please don't leave."   
  
He pushes their foreheads together, and Jensen goes with it.   
  
"Why'd you have to choose now, huh?" he asks. "After all this, in the middle of the blizzard and when I'm pissed at you."   
  
"You did this to me," Jared says.   
  
Jensen's hands come up to hold his face, tenderly. "You were the one moaning like a fucking porn star on my dick," he says. "How was I supposed to take that?"   
  
Jared closes his eyes, feeling Jensen brush snowflakes off his cheek with his thumbs. "Just come back to the border. Just come to the station and we'll talk about all of it." Jensen thumbs his bottom lip and Jared scrapes his teeth over it. "Please, Jensen. I'm not even supposed to be here."   
  
"I'm sorry I'm messing up your job," Jensen says.   
  
"No, I mean. Here," Jared says. He pulls away, and gestures to the snowscape, visible only under the streetlamps, bushes like lumps of covered coal and darkness beyond.   
  
Jensen looks around, like maybe he can spot Jared's meaning in the snow. Jared's starting to feel calm now that he's got Jensen pulled against him, out here with no one else around except Apple who is snorting and rooting around for leaves. He doesn't know where to go from here.   
  
"Just," he says. "Just let me—"   
  
He feels the give, the way Jensen sways into him on reflex and gasps against his mouth, how his lips give against Jared's and it's the sweetest thing.   
  
Then, Jensen jerks back. "Jared, what—"   
  
But Jared gets his hand on his jaw and kisses him again. Jensen makes a surprised noise and Jared is entirely charmed that Jensen, who'd gladly accepted a blow job against cases of beer in the back of the Bar, is so surprised by something this simple.   
  
"Don't worry, I've kissed you before," Jared says, and presses in further. "When we were kids—" he says. "I didn't know it was you."   
  
He's still cradling Jensen's face, dizzy with it. Jensen gently breaks away, breathing hard. "Jared—"   
  
Jared smiles. He has a mind to wind his hands inside Jensen's jacket and kiss him again, but then there is a loud shouting, and his first impulse is to protect Jensen from the blur of motion he sees out of the corner of his eye.    
  
He goes down hard.    
  
"Jared!"   
  
Jared has someone's knee pressed between his shoulder blades. His elbows ache from where he was tackled onto them and his cheek roughs up where it's being pushed over the frozen asphalt. He can't breathe.   
  
After two seconds of getting his bearings, he manages to flip and gets a knee in his attacker's stomach, knocking him away for long enough to make out his face.   
  
He takes in a couple deep breaths, looking down, his jacket half gaping where it was ripped off. "Welling."   
  
Welling looks away and slowly gets to his knees, raising his hands in front of him. Jared wonders why for a second, why tackle a man just to get off of him? But then he looks past Welling's shoulder to see Jensen. Jensen who has a gun trained on them.   
  
"Here's what's going to happen," Jensen says, tone conversational. "You get your fucking hands off him and go take a seat on that bench." He waves his gun to a snow-covered frozen thing ten yards away. "Then I escort the good Mountie here over the border."   
  
"If I—"   
  
"Or I'll shoot you in the face. Capiche?"   
  
_I'm fake dating a guy who says capiche unironically_ , Jared thinks to himself, before Jensen says his name, sharp.    
  
"Huh?" Jared suddenly notices that his teeth are chattering. He's soaked through and he can feel his skin going purple, and he can't take his eyes off the gun.   
  
"Jared. Get up."   
  
"You have a—"   
  
"Yeah," Jensen says. "Where do you keep your piece, by the way?"   
  
Jared stares at him.   
  
Jensen looks him over, gun still trained on Tom. "Your uniform really doesn't hide much of anything, I've always wondered where you keep it."   
  
Jared stands and brushes himself off, not answering. He smiles, tight lipped, at Jensen and nods to Welling, who looks blank-faced, on his ass in the snow like maybe this happens all the time, or, Jared shudders thinking, like he thinks there's no hope for him now, so he's letting go.   
  
The horse nudges her nose against Jared's shoulder. He grabs her reins and swings up into the saddle.   
  
Jensen turns. "Jared?"   
  
Jared doesn't respond. He trots away and when he reaches the border check entrance, he turns to see Jensen walking backward with his gun still raised and pointed at Welling's small, sad form in the dark distance.   
  
Jared crosses back into Canada.   
  
  
  
  
  
He goes and sits in a waiting chair.    
  
"Mountie Padalecki?"   
  
"Jared?"   
  
He hears the others come to stand around him, but he doesn't look up, just puts his head in his hands, twining fingers through his hair and tugging, trying to breathe despite the cold and the panic in his chest, the blackness around the edges of his vision. He is seriously freaking out, he notes, but the fact is foreign and distant as the country he was born in.   
  
"Honey, you need to tell us what's wrong," Mountie in Chief Ferris asks. "Did you find Jensen?"   
  
Alona asks, "Where's Apple?"   
  
His horse! Jared half-stands, but before he can even worry, there is a clopping of hooves, and Jensen is leading Apple inside from where Jared had just jumped off at the door and left her.    
  
Jensen asks, "Forget something?"   
  
His smile falters when Jared frowns and sits back down.   
  
"Jared...."   
  
"He carries a gun," Jared says to the room at large. He shuts his eyes again. He isn't a Mountie, he doesn't know how to do any of this. For the first time since he crossed the border that night six months ago, homesickness rolls up in him and threatens to overwhelm everything. "Jesus."   
  
Jensen looks taken aback, and for a second Jared believes he's going to deny it. Instead he says, "It's under control. Now come on, we need to take you to the hospital."   
  
"I mean, who carries a gun?" Jared laughs. "What are you, some secret agent or something?"   
  
Aldis says, "Yeah, that is pretty weird."   
  
Jensen doesn't deny anything, instead just shoves his gun into the back of his pants and says, "I thought you knew. But that's beside the point."   
  
He reaches out a hand, but Jared flinches. Jensen takes a step back. He puts his hands up, and says, spelling it out, "We have to go."   
  
Jared isn't feeling so hot. For one, his mouth is super dry. He's remembering the time in high school his teacher asked him to stay after and asked him if he had ever considered being a rocket scientist. He remembers teaching his sister how to rollerblade, and he remembers barfing after drinking a whole gallon of milk on a dare, and he remembers being fifteen and wanting to fall in love with a prince and go on adventures together. It's almost like his life is flashing before his eyes.   
  
He needs to come clean. He knows it now, knows this whole thing couldn't last. But first thing's first.    
  
"Mountie Ferris, I'm actually American," Jared says.   
  
"We all knew that, baby," Ferris says.   
  
"Huh?"   
  
"Impersonating law enforcement is a crime," Ferris tells him. "But we at Larkspur believe in second chances."   
  
"I...Chad and I thought you bought it."   
  
"You're a nice kid, Jared, and real smart in most cases. But you were wasted and claiming to be Canadian. You two were obviously on the run from something. For the first five seconds we thought maybe you were both criminals, but then Aldis had his money on two gay men, on the run, seeking acceptance — we know how hard it is to be gay in America."   
  
"We can't have just anyone walking over the border, dressed like a stripper, Americanized idea of a Mountie, claiming to be law enforcement," Aldis says.   
  
"One does not simply  _walk_  into Canada," Adrianne tells him.   
  
"Especially with a fake arrest under their belt. You think we're that forgiving? No, we're gonna make you do some community service time, working for the province."   
  
"Better than America I guess, where being a hooker is apparently a federal offense." Jared says it without thinking, and there is a long silence, during which he really realizes what he's admitted to. Well, it feels like a small relief to say it aloud. "I used to be a high-class prostitute," he tells them. "And because of me, there's a man who has been staking out our station. It's my fault. I put you all in danger. Although I still don't get that. It doesn't add up, you know? How badly they want to bring me back to the country. You'd think they'd just want me to stay gone."   
  
"We've known about Welling," Ferris tells him. "He's not after you. Intel tells us he's watching for a rogue CIA agent."   
  
Jensen puts a hand on her arm. "This is all very interesting, but Jared's very sick and we need to go."   
  
"Your two weeks are up," Alona tells him.   
  
"Not now," he says.   
  
"I'm so sorry," Jared says. "So sorry, for everything."   
  
He coughs. The panic seems to be setting in even further, the edges of his vision are flickering in a way that is somewhat alarming.   
  
There's a hand under one of his arms, and it's Jensen. "I'm taking you to the hospital."   
  
"I don't have health insurance," Jared says. He rubs his hands together while Jensen opens the door of his truck. How are they suddenly in the parking lot? Jared has no idea how they got there. Does Jensen have a car?   
  
Jared thinks deliriously about how much they do not know about one another. He was foolish to think this could work.   
  
"I don't know if you need that here," Jensen says. "Isn't it universal?"   
  
"I don't know," Jared says.   
  
He manages to strap in and then collapses back in the seat. His limbs feel separate from his body.    
  
He notices Jensen's hands are shaking as they reach under the steering wheel and fiddle around. There is a spark and the engine roars. Jensen is hot wiring the car. This seems strange, out of character, but Jared is really tired.   
  
"Stupid," Jensen says.    
  
"Yeah? Right back at you." His teeth are chattering, and his head feels swimmy.   
  
"I'm talking about myself," Jensen says. "Thinking you wouldn't follow me out into the snow when you're wearing a uniform that's way too tight and made of really thin material, too. And I've been trained for cold weather, while you—"   
  
"I would have if I'd been a real Mountie," Jared says.   
  
"And then you kissed me." Jared's head knocks against the window as Jensen screeches out of the parking lot and onto the dark, snowy road. "Jared, you stupid—"   
  
Jared says, "I had to—"   
  
"I know," Jensen says. And then, right before Jared passes out. "I wanted you to."   
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
Jared wakes up in a hospital bed. The sheets are stiff with bleach and over-laundering, the window dark, and a doctor in a white coat is reading over a chart.   
  
He looks down at Jared, and Jared blinks slowly, his eyes gummy.   
  
"Mr. Padalecki, welcome back. I'm Doctor Collins. You're pregnant."   
  
"What!" Jared tries to say, but his eyes just roll back in his head before the room rights itself again.   
  
"Just kidding," Doctor Collins tells him. "But you did suffer exposure and hypothermic shock. I heard you went into a blizzard, partially clad."   
  
"Nghh," Jared says. He looks around the room, and Jensen is seated in a corner, looking stormy. Jared clears his throat, but his voice still comes out hoarse. "Am I dying?"   
  
"No, no. But it was a near thing. I know you Mountie types think you're indestructible, but do me a favor. I don’t want to see you in here again. Next time, wear a warm jacket, or better yet, stay indoors. And always wear a hat. Just because you've got that hair, doesn’t mean you're protected."   
  
Jared tries to say, "Will do, doc."   
  
"Silly, I'm not a doctor."   
  
Jared falls back asleep before he's able to speak with Jensen, and when he wakes up, Jensen is gone.   
  
Chad is there, though. Jared sits up with effort, groaning as all of his limbs protest, and his head pounds.   
  
Chad looks up from where he's playing with the buttons on Jared's remote control bed. "Rough deal, man."   
  
"Yeah."   
  
"So," Chad says. "It turns out Louis wasn't a fan of my show."   
  
"I'm sorry."   
  
"No," Chad says. He smiles. "It's actually great. That just means he isn't after me for my fame. He's after me for my ass! Fucking awesome!"   
  
Jared smiles. "That's great, Chad."   
  
A nurses enters then. "Mr. Murray! Don't wake him."   
  
Chad stands to go. "I'll be back in the morning, okay? You good here?"   
  
"Yeah," he says. "Thanks, man. I really—"   
  
He points at Jared in warning. "Don't go soft on me, Padalecki."   
  
"Okay," Jared says. "Okay."   
  
  
  
  
  
The door creaks open at 1AM. Jared wonders if he's at home, if his dogs are pushing in, then remembers that he's in his apartment in Canada. But neither are true. The air smells sterile, he's more comfortable than he can ever remember being, which is just dumb considering he's in a hospital.   
  
Jared feels like he’s being cuddled into a state of half-consciousness. The reason becomes clear when the mattress sinks strangely. Jared’s eyes adjust and he sees Jensen sitting up, reaching one socked foot to the floor. It seems like a dream, except for the killer headache, pain sharp and real in his forehead, and the aches that spread throughout his body.   
  
"I'm his... uh... his brother," Jared hears him tell the nurse.   
  
"You don't have to lie," she says in a quiet voice. "It's legal here. Don't talk so loudly, you'll disturb him."   
  
"What?"   
  
"I said," she repeats, like Jensen's slowed with hypothermia himself. "He should get some sleep. I'll check on you two in the morning."   
  
"Oh—kay."    
  
Jensen settles back onto an elbow as the door shuts. There's a beat of silence, then he says, "Hey."   
  
Jared struggles from sleep, blinking a little in the dark. "Hey. Thanks."   
  
"No problem. Doesn't matter." Jensen shifts so that Jared fits against him more comfortably, although whether it's deliberate or not, Jared couldn't say. "Although this is gonna be really expensive if you don't die."   
  
He coughs, stretches his stiff arms and legs and then repositions, rolling into Jensen. "I think healthcare  _is_  free here," he whispers into Jensen's neck, and hopes it's soothing.   
  
"Yeah."   
  
"Jensen."   
  
"Hm?"   
  
"I hope you didn't bring guns in here."   
  
"Don't worry, they're under a jacket."   
  
"Thanks."   
  
"No problem."   
  
It's a long moment lying in the half-light and glow of monitors. Even though it's been silent and close, far too intimate for two strangers, Jared has almost forgotten that Jensen is awake. He's in some sort of trance, eyes closing, lulled into half-sleep and judging his breaths against Jensen's. He gives a start when a hand touches his ear, briefly. Then, Jensen's brushing his hair back. Jared takes a deep breath through his nose, the kind that balloons your entire chest, then lets it out harshly while Jensen rubs knuckles down his jaw. Jared keeps his eyes closed, feeling every brush of skin to stubble, Jensen thumbing Jared's bottom lip.   
  
  
  
  
When Jared wakes up again, the room is darker than dark. It takes a full minute to get his bearings. He feels safe and warm, headache a mere throb, thank god, but he's so warm he's sweating, all pushed up against Jensen. He blinks in the dark, looking past Jensen's shoulder to where a red light is blinking in time with quiet beeps and machine hums. Jared is alive and Jensen has him in a vice grip. It is 3AM.   
  
3AM. Jared reflects on his life. Earlier that night, he had made a grand gesture, the type of thing that's supposed to be honorable and romantic. But now Jared knows the angst of chasing down your fake-boyfriend, only to be tackled after your first kiss and then said dude reveals himself to be a spy. Followed by hypothermia.   
  
Jared experiences his first real wave of mortification. It sinks into his chest and his head twinges sharply again. He actually physically closes his eyes, like it might help, and he buries his face into Jensen's neck, willing himself not to think of it now and curling his hands against Jensen's chest more comfortably.   
  
Jensen stirs against him and then stills. Jared doesn't want to talk about anything right now, not like this, him shamelessly leeching comfort while he's asleep and stuck in a hospital room. He makes to roll away – Jensen probably hadn't meant for full-on cuddling when he climbed into bed, probably just wanted to sleep and Jared had glommed on – but the second he moves, Jensen tightens his arm around him.   
  
Jared lets out a breath, and Jensen shifts against him. Jared doesn't say a thing. He flattens his hand against Jensen's chest and Jensen takes the next breath like they're taking turns. And on his exhale, Jared rolls their hips together, slowly. Jensen makes a closed mouth noise, and slides his hand down Jared's back in a smooth press that warms Jared down to his toes.   
  
"Fuck," Jared says, scooting in. Jensen scratches blunt nails up his spine, rumpling his shirt the smallest bit. Jared can feel his heartbeat pulsing through his entire body. He gets Jensen's knee up over his side and rubs his nose against Jensen's neck.   
  
"Why'd you leave?" he asks. "Why wouldn't you stop?"   
  
"I needed a fax machine, and the Boot is open all night," Jensen whispers. "You know, it makes sense now, why you'd kiss me."   
  
"Huh?" The material of his hospital pants are thin as nothing as his dick nudges against Jensen's ass.   
  
Jensen makes a quiet, dark noise, and says, "I thought you knew that all agents wear poisonous chapstick. Thought you were one of us, didn't understand why you kept pushing it, thought you were a kid with a deathwish. And then you kissed me. I was caught off guard." He puts his arms around Jared. "Goddammit, Jared, you could have died."   
  
"Why didn't I, then?"   
  
"I slipped you the antidote when I was driving you here."   
  
"Fuck," Jared says again, and rolls Jensen onto his back, head aching to remind him he's alive. He's got heat thrumming under his skin as he pushes his fingers up Jensen's stomach, up under his shirt. "And now...?"   
  
"Now we're good."   
  
Jensen juts his hips up at that, and Jared gets an arm sunk next to Jensen's head on the pillow and kisses him, pushing Jensen's knee aside to fall between his legs.   
  
Jared sinks forward just as Jensen rises up to meet him, going up on elbows.   
  
"Come here," Jensen says, and puts his hands to Jared's sides, then rubs up his back to pull him down by the wings of his shoulders.   
  
It's so dark. Jared finds Jensen's mouth again with butterfly kisses over his cheeks.   
  
"Jared," Jensen says, almost reproving, and shifts under him.    
  
"Yeah, baby?"   
  
"I'm an international spy. "   
  
None of that means anything to Jared right now. He's got Jensen under him, so he does what he's wanted to— he works at coaxing Jensen's mouth open with slow, even-pressured kisses.    
  
"I've been trying to impress you by jumping out windows," Jensen tells him.   
  
Jared says, "That's the best ever," and means it.   
  
  
  
  
  
Jared wakes up to Adrianne talking with Alona. He has yet to open his eyes but the room feels bright.   
  
"These are so pretty!" Adrianne's saying. "You can put them on the table."   
  
"Morning, Jensen," Alona says, although it still sounds shady.   
  
Jensen just grunts.   
  
"You look tired," Adrianne says. "We can stay if you need to get home."   
  
"Jensen  _does_  look tired, doesn't he? You'd think he was the one who'd had a hypothermic attack."   
  
"I see what you're implying," Jensen says. "But this is only a brief moment of weakness."   
  
"This information could be worth at least five grand," Alona says. "But with a little incentive...."   
  
"Jared! My man!" Aldis bangs into the room.   
  
Jared opens his eyes and shifts to sit up.   
  
Adrianne runs up to cuddle him. "You're awake!"   
  
Jared gathers the sheets around him, smiling at everyone. "'Sup."   
  
"Hypothermia!" Aldis says, and gives him a half hug. "This is what happens when you don't wear a hat."   
  
"It blew off in the storm!"   
  
"You need to go to basic training. Apparently that never happened, and it's something we've got to fix."   
  
Jared groans. "I'm going to be a rookie forever, aren't I?"   
  
He looks over to the table in the corner, and Jensen catches his eye, for just a second and then it's gone, but Jared feels dreamy with it.   
  
He leans back against the pillows and watches Jensen and Alona make veiled insults while Aldis eats the Jello on the table and Adrianne talks with Alona about martial arts. It's a cute picture. He remembers how last night he'd kissed Jensen to sleep, soft and forever. His neck heats up at the memory how Jensen's skin felt under his hands. Looking over at Jensen now, he wants to touch him again.    
  
He lets this longing fill him, idly and completely, as he grabs the coffee on the sidetable. He thinks that what he has, here in this small town of Larkspur, located in Manitoba in the fine country of Canada, is pretty sweet.   
  
He lifts the cup to his lips to take a sip.   
  
Jensen says, "Jared, don—"   
  
  
  
  
Jared wakes up hours later, judging by the clock, to a tugging in the skin of his forearm. He blinks his eyes five times, ten, trying to open them for real, but he feels sluggish.   
  
He tries to ask what happened, but his mouth is so dry it comes out garbled.   
  
"Hey, easy." Jensen's voice is gruff but warm. "The first rule you should learn if you're going to hang out with secret agents: never drink anything."   
  
"Who?" Jared croaks.   
  
"Alona." Of course. "It wasn't meant for you."   
  
Jared rubs his hand over his eyes, tries to clear his head and collect his bearings. Jensen frowns.   
  
"They just removed your IV. You're free to go whenever you want. No permanent damage."   
  
Jared frowns back.   
  
"...Jared."   
  
He waves off Jensen's hands. "Just...."   
  
He gets out of bed, feeling somewhat wobbly on his feet but fine. He goes to the bathroom and then grabs his clothes where they've been folded on the chair and pulls them on, one leg and then the other. Zip up the back, adjust his sleeves. Only once he's gotten his tiny ascot knotted at his neck, does he smooth his hands down his shorts and turn back to Jensen.   
  
"We can talk about it later," he says. Jensen has been watching this whole time, face unreadable. Jared says, "Let's get out of here."   
  
"Do you want me to—"   
  
"No," Jared cuts him off. "I can get it from here."   
  
The ride to Jared's apartment is quiet, the pine trees zipping by, a crisp afternoon with the sky high and grey above them and the road dark with more snow. They park and Jared doesn't fall out the door of the truck, but when he stumbles, Jensen is there, catching him against his chest. Jared wants to fall asleep right there, snow building up against his feet, Jensen a warm, solid presence beside him.   
  
"Let's get you inside," Jensen says.   
  
Jared manages to fish his keys out of his pocket by himself, thank you very much. He frowns at Jensen, who meets his frown, looking stern.   
  
"Don't tell Chad," Jared says.   
  
"Wouldn't dream of it."   
  
When they step inside, Jared is exhausted, but he feels quiet relief at being back in his apartment. Beer in the fridge, game controllers in the cushions. It's almost like things are finally settling into place in life. Like the secret Jensen has had this whole time is out, like Jared's secret is out too, and now they can just kick back.   
  
There's no question of whether Jensen's going to stay. He sits on the couch and drags Jared onto it next to him, their legs pressed together.   
  
"Hey," he says.   
  
Jared smiles at him. This is Jensen. "Hey. You going to tell me your secrets, double oh seven?"   
  
Jensen barely pauses, expression cool like he'd already decided to tell Jared, maybe last night or maybe before that. "Yeah, I'll tell you. You're not going to like it."   
  
Jared wants to say something cheesy like 'I like everything about you' but it's not true, he knows it's not. He's still bleary from being knocked out and staying up all night. He's not in his right mind, he knows that. Tomorrow he's going to have to face the facts, that Jensen's got a lot of baggage, probably kills people and litters their body parts in bodies of water. He's seen movies and read a hundred spy books, about romance and murder and espionage.   
  
He doesn't say anything, just shows Jensen that he's ready to listen, putting his feet up on the coffee table and waves Jensen to continue.   
  
Jensen clears his throat. Jared thinks it must be terrible, knowing from experience that telling anyone something honest about you can be the hardest, most insurmountable effort.   
  
Jensen finally says, "I come from a line of rich oil tycoons."   
  
Jared laughs. "Put it modestly."   
  
Jensen smiles, but it's sad, looks bad on him.   
  
"My parents were happy," he says. "My dad was a diplomat and my mom was heir to the Moncton fortune. Together, they had political clout and influence in the community. My mom was deeply invested in social programs in the area, started a few parks and community gardens, helped run the homeless shelter and started rehabilitation programs."   
  
Jared puts a hand on his knee. "She sounds like a great woman."   
  
"I joined the CIA. You know."   
  
Jared doesn't really know, but Jensen seems so wrapped up in remembering so he stays quiet. He's sure Jensen will answer when he asks, later, maybe has been answering honestly this whole time.   
  
Jensen continues, "I did that. My parents were proud of me, and my sister was at school and doing a degree in IR, on the road to becoming a diplomat herself. We were perfect."   
  
Jared's getting an ominous feeling about this whole thing. It's leading up to disaster, he can tell, because why else would Jensen be this sad, this far from home.   
  
"And then?"   
  
"Then. God, Jared. Then it all went to hell. My father had been in talks with Langley, and got wrapped up in something shady. But I know my dad, he wouldn't do anything like that. He's an honest man. He was caught out on a technicality, something he didn’t know about until it was too late. He's in jail now, and my mom and sister are fine, just, they had to sell the house and lost the company. And so I went rogue."   
  
It's all becoming clear. "So Alona—"   
  
"Also an agent."   
  
"She's supposed to kill you." Jared says it with a certainty that suddenly hits him. "Jensen, are you going to die?"   
  
Jensen laughs. "Yeah, right, like she'd actually do it. Alona and I went to school together. It's Welling we should be worried about, but Mike's on it, thanks to your tip."   
  
"My—"   
  
"Don't worry about it."   
  
"What are you going to do about your family?"   
  
"It's out of my hands now. I sent the files to my contacts. I swore that I would right the wrongs done to my family, and now I have." Jensen pauses. "Hey, you don't look so good."   
  
It's true, Jared doesn't feel well. He is tired from the hospital and the two poisonings of his person and the possible hypothermia.   
  
"How about I get you something. Soup?"   
  
Jared snorts. "You think this is the kind of place that serves soup? Me and Chad keep meat in the freezer, and eggs and beer go in the fridge."   
  
"I noticed," Jensen says. "I'll go grab you something. We'll talk more about this after I get back."   
  
"Yeah?"   
  
Jensen looks at him all worried. "Dude. You look like you're about to cry."   
  
"I'm so hungry," Jared tells him. "I don't think I've ever been so happy about someone offering to get me food before in my life."   
  
Jensen shoves him away and stands. "Oh my god, all right, yes, I'll be right back."   
  
He doesn't move though. He stands there at Jared's knees in Jared's living room, looking down at him. Jared's hands itch to grab him by the waist, kiss his palm, anything within reach, but Jensen stands there a beat longer, until Jared laughs and Jensen reaches out and pats him on the shoulder like they didn't spend all last night making out.    
  
"I'll be right back," Jensen says again, with this look in his eye, like, a secret for just the two of them. Jensen smiles, quick, and then leaves without looking back.   
  
  
  
  
  
  
Jared's nudging mail around on the table with a finger, standing idly and looking around their apartment, he and Chad's, his best friend and ex-boss, in fucking Canada. Jared's got bills here and his Mountie uniform is draped over a chair. It's a life. Jared's feeling tentatively good, letting happiness be an option. Chad's totally got it right. This is one of those things people say happens without you noticing: you blink and then you're there.   
  
He's grabbing a beer from the fridge when there's a loud sound. Something like an explosion only not quite. A second later, Chad bursts in.    
  
Jared turns. "Hey. Everything okay?"   
  
"Jared."   
  
Chad's out of breath. Jared smiles at him, feeling fond. It's probably a side effect of whatever antidote he's taken twice in 24 hours: heart aching happiness. Tonight he's going to eat soup with this guy he likes and his best friend. They all have a load of ridiculous issues, like whether or not they're all going to remain employed and whether they're going to get banished from two countries, but they'll deal with all that tomorrow.   
  
Chad is finally catching his breath. He waves away the beer that Jared's holding out for him and gasps, "We have to go! No time to explain!"   
  
Jared blinks. "Wait, what?"   
  
"We have to leave!"   
  
"The apartment? Man, I just got out of the hospital, I'm not gonna go drinking now."   
  
Chad frowns. "Canada! We have to leave Canada."   
  
Jared really blinks this time. "But…." He pulls out a chair and collapses slowly into it. Chad waves his hands around a little to express the necessity and Jared says, "But I have things to do. Like, eat soup and bring the recycling in."   
  
Chad says, "It doesn't matter! We have to fucking go!"   
  
It's like déjà vu; Jared has been here before, that night in their apartment in the states, six months and a lifetime ago. But this time, he has something he is going to lose, someone he can't leave.   
  
"Chad, if you're messing with me...."   
  
"Jared," he says. "I'm sorry but—" He looks like he understands. His puts his hand on Jared's shoulder and lets it sink in, the fact of the matter. "We gotta go. Put on your American clothes and let's go, man."   
  
"But, Jensen—"   
  
"You think I don't have someone to lose in all this?"   
  
"What—"   
  
"I don't even have the kid's number!"   
  
"Louis? He's given you his number like fifty times!"   
  
"I always know where he is! Why would I need to call him? This is a life of imprisonment we're talking about, Jared. We need to leave."   
  
"Okay," Jared says, kind of freaking out. He feels a certain emotion he isn't going to name knot up his stomach. "Okay, just let me—"   
  
He takes out his phone and clicks Jensen, even though he apparently never answers it, probably doesn't even have his phone on half the time.   
  
As it rings, Jared walks out onto the balcony. It's still snowing and the air is frozen and the streets are still in the distance. The phone rings forever and Jared breathes in time. He crosses his arms on the balcony and rests his forehead in the crook of an elbow, eyes squinted closed like he's making a wish.   
  
"Come on," he says. "You fucking idiot. C'mon, answer the phone. Of all the times. Just, answer it."   
  
The call goes to voicemail, the automated message voice saying, "This is the mail box of phone number...."   
  
"Please," Jared says again. "Please just...."   
  
There's a beep and Jared is suddenly leaving a message, talking to Jensen for what could be the last time.   
  
"Hey man—" his voice breaks on it. "Hey I just...look, something came up. And I gotta—"   
  
He takes in a breath, then lets it out slow. What is even happening in his life? He feels like he can't catch up. He wants to sleep and wake up to things being okay for once.   
  
"Just, I wish things had been different. There's something there, man. I'm not sure where I'm headed, but all I know is it's you, you know. It'll always be you, which is totally crazy because we haven't known each other for long, but it's kind of been my whole life, and just—"   
  
"This is one of those times, isn't it?"   
  
Jared turns so fast he nearly slips in the snow.   
  
Jensen's standing in the open door. He rolls his eyes. "You so eager to get into bed with me again you're going for hypothermia? Because it may have worked once, but that was a different circumstance. I date smart guys, not—"   
  
Jared steps forward and slides a hand into the warmth of Jensen's jacket, and frames his jaw with the other and kisses him slow and deliberate. Jensen's hands span Jared's back, and Jared steps in closer, fitting them together. Jensen makes a noise and kisses Jared back against the railing.   
  
Jared pulls back.   
  
"Well," Jensen says. "If this is because I brought you soup—"   
  
"I was just calling to ask you to leave the country with me."   
  
"Huh?"   
  
Jared shrugs.   
  
"I've been trying to get you to do that for months," Jensen says. "And now it's twice in one day. Don't know what to do with—"   
  
"Just say yes," Jared tells him. "Because goddammit Jen, if you don't—"   
  
"Yes," Jensen says. He grabs ahold of Jared's jacket to tug him in. "Of course it's a yes."   
  
"You ready to leave now?"   
  
They go inside and Chad is pacing by the door.   
  
"We can't take the elevator," Jensen tells him, suddenly all business.   
  
"He's right," Chad says.   
  
Chad has watched a lot of spy movies and Jensen is a spy, so Jared trusts them both.   
  
"Well, what are we waiting for?"   
  
They don't grab anything other than jackets and the keys to their old apartment, just across the border. They jog down the hall and take the winding stairs at a run, jumping down each level.   
  
"Stop!" comes echoing down the parking garage.   
  
"Holy shit," Jared says. "You were right."   
  
"Fucking believe me," Chad shouts back. "You think I'd lie about this." He shoves Jared between the shoulder blades and takes off at a sprint, shouting, "Go, go, go!"   
  
Jared sprints off toward the dark garage opening, shouts echoing after them. He looks around for Jensen but he's gone, a total ninja for real, but Jared has to trust that he can take care of himself.   
  
Chad peels off.    
  
"What are you doing?" Jared yells.   
  
"My scooter!" Chad shouts back. "It's our best chance."   
  
"It's out of gas in someone's driveway!"   
  
"Fucking A, Jared!"   
  
The garage gates start rolling closed. Chad wheels back around and sprints and almost makes it there before the doors clang shut, but he slams into the iron grating instead. Jared hits metal next to him and sees that Jensen is out on the street, looking torn.   
  
"Go!" Jared yells, in actual life. "Save yourself!"   
  
"Murray!" he hears. "Padalecki!"   
  
Jared looks at Chad, who, wide eyed, looks over his shoulder.   
  
It's Genevieve.    
  
"Oh," says Chad. He lets go of the grating.   
  
That sums things up.   
  
Genevieve smiles as she gets closer. "Are you really that scared of me? That's kind of gratifying."   
  
"Right." Jared laughs, putting his hands on his knees, breathing deep. "Okay, yeah."   
  
"You're right. You should be scared of me," she says, coming closer. "You know what you forgot to do this morning?"   
  
Jared looks over to the far side of the garage, heart sinking in his chest.   
  
"Damn."   
  
The recycling bin has pretty much been flattened, and bottles and glass shrapnel of their barbecue are everywhere.   
  
Chad swivels around. "So there was no explosion?"   
  
"If you call Mrs. Mlakar running the bin over 'an explosion.' It sure sounded like it."   
  
"—so this in no way involved a package for me?" Chad asks.   
  
"It's the middle of the night, dumbass."   
  
"Fair point."   
  
"This is so coming out of this month's rent." Then, she shouts to the street: "Ackles! I can see you hiding out there. Come help your boyfriend clean up so we can go get a drink."   
  
  
  
  
  
Later, after sweeping up broken glass and beer bottles, feeling giddy, Chad slapping him on the back saying, "How did we even—" and Jared responding, "No fucking clue, I don't even know—" while Jensen stood and supervised the clean-up with Genevieve, they're at the Bar.   
  
Chad is leaning over the countertop to Louis, discussing a possible cooking show spinoff. Danneel makes Genevieve a cherry vodka redbull with a maraschino cherry in it that looks a lot like a heart, and Adrianne arrives looking fly. Alona and Aldis somehow know to show up as well, just as Christian Kane and backup Steve are setting up on stage. Even Jim Beaver and Mark Sheppard are seated in the far corner with a bottle of the good stuff.   
  
"So where does Alona even keep her gun?" Jared whispers.   
  
"She's more of a sheath-on-spine kind of agent," Jensen says.   
  
Alona looks up from down the bar, like she knows they are talking about her.   
  
"Hey!" says a voice.   
  
They turn.   
  
It's Mike. He claps Jared on the shoulder and then drags Jensen in for a hug. Jared feels a spark of jealousy until he realizes that he can pretty much hug Jensen as much as he wants now.   
  
"You take care of it?" Jensen asks.   
  
"Well." Mike looks decidedly shifty.   
  
Jensen sighs. "That should have been obvious."   
  
Jared looks between the two of them. "What? What was obvious?"   
  
"Our FBI friend," Jensen says.   
  
"In my defense, he is really tall," Mike says. "Anyway, I threatened him with misconduct should he ever bother you again, so hooking up with him totally went in our favor."   
  
"You're a complete genius," Jared tells him, sincere.   
  
"Why, thank you."   
  
"He mentioned you, actually.   
  
"Oh yeah?"   
  
"He says you two struck up an accord, and he meant to tackle Jensen, not you. He says sorry about your shirt."   
  
Jared feels pleased. Welling sounds like a pretty good guy, actually. "Don't worry, it's velcro."   
  
Jensen tells him, "You know, I always showed Tom up in the academy, which is why I managed to evade him when I crossed the border."   
  
"You trying to impress me?"   
  
"You are already impressed," Jensen tells him.   
  
"You're right."   
  
Alona says, "You know, I was beginning to doubt my abilities. I thought you were better at covering your tracks than Ackles, here. I tried to pull your file, but all they've got on you is collusion with a man named Chad, who fled six months ago when they tried to bring him in for evasion of jury duty. I feel better now that I know you're just a kid who stumbled into the country."   
  
Jared freezes. "What?" He yells, "Chad!"   
  
"He's here?" she asks, looking around.   
  
"This was all about jury duty," Jared says. "Everything."   
  
"Are you actually fucking with me?" Chad yells back.   
  
"I've been hugging people for months because of this kid," Aldis tells Mike. "Do you know how awkward—"   
  
Adrianne laughs from the other end of the bar and Mike ends up telling Aldis a story about a certain "vacation" he took once to Monaco that sounds like it could be classified, but who is Jared to say?   
  
"You know," Jensen says, while everyone's talking. "I still need to leave."   
  
Jared isn't surprised. He would leave, too, if he were Jensen, if he could finally see his family after all this. "I know."   
  
"It has to be soon," Jensen says. "Tonight, even."   
  
Chad looks away from Louis again. "Oh for the love of— Tonight? Hasn't there been enough action?"   
  
"No time like the present," Jensen says.   
  
"I'd feel legally-bound to tell the authorities," Danneel says. "But given that one of you is a Mountie...."   
  
"And how long do you think...." Genevieve asks.   
  
"Don't worry," Chad tells her. "We'll totally still pay rent. And it shouldn't be that long. Ackles here won't be able to stay away longer than a couple weeks. A month, tops. We'll be seeing y'all soon."   
  
Jared looks at him, then to Jensen. "We?"   
  
Jensen arches his eyebrows. "Well, obviously. I'm not just leaving you here. And I'm pretty sure you'll at least be suspended from work, so...."   
  
"Dude totally wants to introduce you to his parents," Chad says, then looks past Jared to tell Jensen, "He's really slow, don't mind him."   
  
"Well, it's midnight," Jared says.   
  
"This is the earliest you'll have ever gone home," Danneel says. "I'd be worried if I didn't know you were leaving the country. Be good."   
  
As they're walking out, after hugs and Chad grabbing Louis by the suspenders and kissing him rather epically, Jared hears Danneel exclaim, "What? Not a real Mountie!"   
  
"Not a real Canadian," Genevieve tells her.   
  
Louis says, "Dani, I have something to tell you, too."   
  
  
  
  
Later, at the border, Chad's got a side bag, and shades pushed back on his head; Jensen's in a Ramones t-shirt and a hoodie; and Jared's in a North Face jacket and Levis that are three inches too short.   
  
"Thank god for your boyfriend," Chad says, breath puffing out in a way that's reminiscent of that night, when he and Jared had spit on each other's palms and shaken on a brighter future.   
  
"Thank god for the secret service, is more like it," Jensen says. "You know they have warehouses of disguises you can choose from. All different countries, styles, and eras. You name it."   
  
Jared accepts this for a second, but then, "Why would you need clothes from another era...?"   
  
Jensen grabs him by the face and kisses him, a hard smack on the lips. Jared is left dazed.   
  
"Let's go," Jensen says.   
  
They step toward the dotted line.   
  
They step over the dotted line.   
  
"Well," Chad says, and they start down the road.


End file.
